


No More Regrets

by afteriwake



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Teachers, Awesome Molly, BAMF Molly, Brave Molly, Creepy Moriarty, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper, F/M, Flirty Molly, Hurt Victor, Irene Adler Is A Mole, Minor Greg Lestrade/Sally Donovan, Minor Mary Morstan/John Watson, Molly Hooper/Mary Morstan Friendship, Molly Is Patient, Moriarty Is A Dick, Moriarty Is Careless, Moriarty is Alive, Moriarty's Revenge, POV Molly Hooper, Past Victor Trevor & Sherlock Holmes Friendship, Poor Molly, Protective Sherlock, Revenge, Sally Donovan & Molly Hooper Friendship, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes & James Moriarty Rivalry, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson Friendship, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings, Sherlock Holmes Has a Heart, Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper Fluff, Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper Kissing, Sherlock Is Dedicated, Sherlock is a Good Boyfriend, Shy Molly, flirty Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-19
Updated: 2017-08-17
Packaged: 2018-03-31 08:48:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 36,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3971554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly Hooper prefers a life limited to her teaching at King's College, the occasional consult for Scotland Yard and evenings with her cat and a good book, but her best mates think she should expand her horizons. On one of their regular "Let's get Molly a social life" nights, Molly meets a man who saves her from a sticky situation, but before she can get to know this Sherlock fellow any better she has to leave the pub. She thinks it's a fleeting "what might have been" moment, but Sherlock has other ideas about that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadySolitaire83](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadySolitaire83/gifts).



> So, after battling depression for three months, I have gotten my writing mojo back in full force, which I am incredibly thankful for. I have a lot of stories that will be posted later this year (some are for fic exchanges and some are for Big Bangs I've signed up for, though most of those stories will be finished WIPs), but this one I wanted to be among the first. **LadySolitaire83** was kind enough to help out with some things, and she was also the only one to take me up on the fic offer for her help, asking for a Sherlolly fic where one of them accidentally leaves their ID in a library book and the other one finds it. I took that prompt along with an AU idea that had been running around in my head (where Sherlock and Molly are professors at rival universities) and an AU prompt that I believe came from **frostlawyer** on Tumblr (“i'm pretending to be ur bff bc u looked VERY uncomfortable with that person at the bar hitting on u”) for this story. It will most likely be longer than what is owed, but after the delay in actually writing this I felt that would be a proper apology. I hope all of you enjoy it!

She absolutely detested going to the pub. Between balancing the classes she taught at the university and the occasional consultations she gave to Scotland Yard she didn't have much free time left, and she would much rather spend those relatively few free evenings at home with her cat, curled up with a good book and a warm pot of tea. But the two best friends she had insisted she not be a hermit because it wasn't good for her, and so every once in a while she found herself at a crowded pub, watching her friends chat people up while she nursed a pint or two until enough time had passed for her to say it was time for her to call it a night. Tonight was no exception; they'd gone to a pub near University College because Sally had said they needed a change of pace in available men. Molly knew it would be a very good idea _not_ to mention where she taught her own university classes, since King's College was at the top of the rivalry list with University College.

At the moment she was at a table by herself, library book in front of her. It was due in two days and she was almost done with it, and since she had known that within forty minutes of them being there she would be at a table by herself she'd brought it with her to fill up the time until she could make her exit without being persuaded to stay longer. And tonight had been no exception; they'd been at the pub for thirty-eight minutes now and Sally was off with a young university student at least ten years her junior and Mary was challenging a group of people to a “friendly” game of darts where she would inevitably empty everyone's wallets by the time she ended her evening. She pulled out her book and turned to the page she'd been at when she stopped reading earlier that afternoon. She had a fondness for epic fantasy novels that told of the heroes journey. This particular book had been out for years now, but she had only just discovered the author a month and a half earlier and had slowly been working through his two longer interconnected series. There had been thirteen books total, and she finished the last one two days ago. She'd moved on to his two interconnected trilogies and was only a few chapters shy of finishing the first book in the first trilogy. It was actually quite a thrilling book and she couldn't wait to see how it ended.

She'd been reading for five minutes when someone slammed down a drink on her table and she jumped. Before she focused on who did it she hoped idly that it was Sally or Mary, but she was not so lucky. It was a man who looked a few sheets to the wind already, and he was leering at her slightly. She sighed and reached for the bookmark she'd been using, only to find it sopping wet from the beer that had spilled over when the man slammed his drink down. “You got my bookmark wet,” she said, looking around for something else to use. After a moment she realized there was nothing on the table suitable, not even a paper napkin or a cheap coaster, and with a sigh she pulled her university ID out and used that instead.

The man gave her a grin that rather unnerved her. “What's a pretty bird like you doing at a table alone reading a book?” he asked, leaning forward.

“Trying to kill time until I can leave,” Molly replied.

“You should be talking to people. There are all sorts of interesting people here. Like me, for instance. I'm really interesting,” he said, slurring his words slightly and drawing out the word really. 

She cringed, looking around. Mary was nowhere to be seen and Sally was fully focused on the bloke she was flirting with. “Look, I suppose I should, but really, that's not me. And my friends will be back any minute.”

“But they aren't here _now_ ,” he said, reaching out to put a hand on her thigh. She reached down and plucked it off, giving him a look of disgust. He seemed to not take the hint, though, and he did it again. “You and me, we could have a bit of fun.”

“I--” she said, beginning to panic slightly as he leaned forward.

“Susan!” she heard a deep voiced man say from behind the drunk person trying to inch her skirt up. The man froze in what he was doing before turning towards the man. He was somewhat intimidating looking; tall with curly dark hair and piercing eyes, wearing an immaculate suit that was a distinct difference to the more casual clothing the others at the pub were wearing. He came over and clapped a hand on the man's shoulder, and it must have been quite a firm grip because the drunk man winced in pain. “Susan and I haven't seen each other in years and I would really like to catch up,” he said. “So now would be a good time for you to vacate the table, I think.”

“Oh, Robert! I'm so glad to see you!” Molly said gratefully to the stranger. The drunk man took one look at her and then turned back to the man with the death grip on his shoulder and reached for his pint. The stranger released his shoulder and the man slunk off to go find other easy prey. She watched for a moment before turning back to the man. “Thank you...?”

“Sherlock,” he said. “I'm assuming your name isn't really Susan?” She must have looked even more confused because he looked down. “The brief look of confusion when I made my entrance. You didn't immediately join along in the charade.”

“Oh!” she said, her eyes wide. She extended a hand towards him. “No. My name is Molly. Thank you for your help, Sherlock.”

“Well, I hate to see people put in situations they don't want to be in, especially since your friends ditched you in less than an hour,” he said, sitting in the abandoned chair. “Of course, my friend did the same and is currently giving your blonde friend a run for her money in their game of darts, so I suppose I understand.” He motioned to the book. “I should do that next time.”

“Well, it really didn't do any good,” she said. “I still got bothered.”

“And I suppose I'm bothering you now,” he said quietly, looking down at his drink. “I'll leave.”

“No! I mean, you saved me from what could have been a really bad situation,” she said, placing a hand on his arm. “The least I can do is get you a fresh drink. What is that?”

“Water,” he said with the ghost of a smile. “I'm not someone who likes alcoholic drinks.”

“Well, I could always upgrade you to a cola, so that way I can actually buy something,” she said with a smile.

“I suppose I could handle one syrupy sweet drink tonight,” he said after a moment.

She nodded and grabbed her purse to take with her to the bar. “I'll be right back, then,” she said, her smile widening as she got up. She pushed her way through the crowded pub to get to the bar, and she was almost there when she felt someone grab her. She squeaked and turned to see the drunk man had his hand on her arm. “Let go of me!”

“Guess he wasn't man enough to hold your attention,” the man said, pulling her closer. She tried to get out of his grip but it was tight, his fingers digging into her skin. “I'm man enough, though.”

He'd gotten her flush against him and she realized in horror he had an erection. He ground it against her slightly and she felt ill. She felt horribly violated and on instinct she put some space between them and then quickly raised her knee up hard into his groin. He groaned in pain and let go of her as he doubled over, and she quickly made her escape before he recovered. She knew she should go back to Sherlock, make a proper good-bye and maybe offer him lunch later, but she wanted to put as much distance between herself and the drunken lech as possible.

She finally stepped outside the pub and hailed a cab, climbing into the backseat of the first one that stopped and giving the driver her address. She shut her eyes and relaxed into the seat for a few moments until she realized her library book was still at the table, and her eyes flew open. Bloody hell. She might as well kiss the book good-bye, unless she was lucky enough that Sally or Mary would go back to the table before they headed somewhere else for the night and grab the book for her. She decided to call them, but Sally's phone went right to voicemail and Mary's rang and rang without connecting. With a sigh she looked out the window as London flew by. The next time her friends tried to take her out for a night on the town she was going to bring this up as a reason to say no.

It didn't take long to get to her flat, and she let herself in, grateful she had at least grabbed her purse and not just the money for the drink so she had her keys. It would have been even more embarrassing to have to go back for that. She saw her cat was still sitting on his normal perch on the back of her favorite chair. She sat down in it and then reached up to pick Toby up and set him on her lap. “Well, Toby, I guess it's just you and I together tonight after all,” she said as she petted him. Toby meowed and then settled into her lap more, soon after purring loudly. She let her mind drift as she smoothed his fur back in easy strokes. It might have been nice to actually talk to the man who tried to save her from an awful evening, she thought to herself. He was quite handsome. And while it probably would have been nothing more than a conversation, since most men seemed to consider other women more attractive when it came to _more_ than conversation, it still would have been a nice change of pace. Sadly, though, it hadn't happened, and she was left with another “what if” to collect in her pile of regrets. One day, maybe, she would get lucky. Or at least she hoped so.


	2. Chapter 2

“Oh God, Molly, I'm so sorry that happened!” Mary said, her eyes wide. Mary worked as an administrative assistant to the president of the university, and she and Molly had taken to having their lunches together in between Molly's classes. There was an Indian restaurant they went to for curry on Mondays, and at the moment they were sitting down at a table, looking across at each other as Molly explained what had happened at the pub. She leaned back in her chair, looking absolutely shocked. “If I had known that had happened I would have left too.”

“No, it's all right,” she said before taking a bite of her food. “I just feel bad I left the man who rescued me the first time waiting for me at the table. I just had to go before that wanker straightened up and got violent.”

“Well, I didn't see him when I went back to the table,” she said with a frown. “Maybe Sally saw him?”

“Maybe,” Molly said, sighing. “I'm actually more upset about the library book. I absolutely hate the idea of losing a book that doesn't belong to me.”

Mary shook her head. “You're the only person I know who's more upset about losing a book then losing out on a chance to snog their very own knight in shining armor,” she said before lifting up a forkful of food. “And I'm afraid I can't help with the book. It wasn't at the table when I got back.”

Molly's eyes got wide as something occurred to her, and then she hung her head. “Oh bloody hell.”

“What?” Mary asked, pausing in her movements, her forkful of food hanging in midair.

“My university ID was in the book,” she said with a groan. “I was using it as a bookmark because there was nothing on the table I could have used.”

“Oh, I hope that the arsehole who ground against you didn't grab it,” Mary said. “That would be a problem you don't need.”

Molly nodded slightly and then dejectedly turned to her food. Now she had to worry about who had her ID, because if it was that tosser he'd know her name and where she worked and he could get retaliation for her kneeing him in the groin and humiliating him. She ate for a bit and then looked at her watch. They had an hour until her class started, and she supposed she should get back a bit earlier to alert security that someone had her ID and they should be on the lookout. She was friendly with a few people on the security team so she doubted they would have a problem with that. “I should probably get back to the university early and talk to security, just to be safe.”

“That probably wouldn't be a bad idea,” Mary said with a nod. “I'll go with you.”

“All right,” Molly said. They finished their food a bit more quickly than they usually would and went to go talk to security. No one was in the office, even though they waited around for five minutes. With a sigh Molly turned to Mary. “I suppose I should just come back later. Go ahead and go back to Carmichael's office. I don't want him to gripe at you.”

“Oh, because he doesn't do that regardless?” Mary said with a wry smile. She leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I hope that things work out, and if they don't, remember Sally has a gun.”

Molly shook her head. “I don't think we'll need to take it that far.”

“Well, just keep it in mind,” Mary said. She turned to leave and gave Molly a wave, and Molly waved back.

She waited another few minutes while she scribbled a note to the head of the security team on campus, and then she went towards her office. She opened the door and froze, looking inside. Her knight in shining armor was sitting there, flipping through a book as he sat at her desk. “Hello,” she said slowly.

“The Diamond Throne,” Sherlock said without looking up. “I have to admit, it does look to be a rather interesting book, though it's not really my taste.”

She smiled a bit, relaxing. At least he had the book. “Well, it's quite interesting. I was almost finished with it that night at the pub. It's the first part of a trilogy, and then there's another one after that.” She moved over to the other side of her desk and sat down, draping her coat on top of the desk. He looked up and handed her the book. “Thank you for bringing it to me.”

“I took the liberty of renewing it for you, just in case I wasn't able to get it back to you today,” he said.

“Thank you, once again,” she said.

He nodded slightly. “I saw the aftermath of your handiwork. He needed an icepack on his groin for a half hour or so. When I saw that I assumed he had made another attempt at harassing you, and that explained your hasty exit.”

“I am _really_ sorry I just took off on you like that,” she said with an embarrassed look on her face. “I just wasn't sure what he'd do next if I'd stayed.”

“No, I think you made the right choice,” he said. “He was saying some rather ugly things about women and one woman in general. I didn't hear much of it, because when he saw me he got very quiet, but I assume you were the woman in particular that he had a problem with.”

“Then I think that's a pub I'll avoid from here on out,” she said, wincing slightly.

“I'm surprised you were there, all things considered,” he said. “It's mostly frequented by students and staff at University College, and with you being a professor at King's College...” He trailed off his sentence.

“It wasn't my idea to be there,” she said. “My mates, Sally and Mary, they thought that we should have a change of pace in the men we were associating with. I don't think they really thought through what a bad idea it could be for me.”

“Apparently not. It's a very good thing I got your book and identification instead of him, though. He's apparently a student in my friend John's course, and he's very vocal about his stance in the rivalry between our two universities.”

She looked at him, blinking. “Our universities?” she asked, slightly confused.

He nodded. “I teach courses in biochemistry for the Life Sciences department at University College London, when I'm not pursuing my own business.”

“Oh,” she said quietly. She didn't really hold much to the rivalry, because she thought it was really rather a stupid thing in the first place, but she knew there were quite a few people that she was friendly with who did. She supposed the fact he taught at that specific rival university would be a mark against him in their eyes, no matter how nice or interesting he might be. “What type of consulting business do you have?”

“I take cases from people who need detective services,” he said.

“That's actually quite fascinating,” she said. “I consult for Scotland Yard on occasion, myself.”

She noticed him perk up even more at that. “Who do you consult with?”

“Generally anyone who needs a second opinion on forensic pathology results,” she said. “I'm not very picky with who I offer my services to.”

“I tend to work mostly with DI Casperstein and DI Krause,” he said. “They don't like me very much but they realize I have a unique skill set.”

“What skill set is that?” she asked, tilting her head.

“I have excellent skills at deduction,” he said. “If I hadn't decided to pursue a career in the sciences and I had more of an interest in the procedures of Scotland Yard I may have gone into law enforcement.”

“I had considered it myself, actually,” Molly said. “But this teaching position opened up and I thought it was the best career choice. I have more of a chance to advance here than I would there. But my father was in Scotland Yard, and the people who I knew growing up knew I was interested in the field so they've asked for my help in particularly tricky cases. It's really interesting work.”

“Yes, it is a very interesting line of work,” Sherlock said with a nod. He leaned forward a bit. “I haven't met anyone else who is interested in helping with investigations before. Perhaps we could speak more on that later?”

“I would love that,” Molly said with a wide smile. “And I do owe you for helping me last night. Do you have plans for dinner tonight?”

He nodded slowly. “Unfortunately. I have a meeting with my brother that I can't ignore.”

“Ah. I understand,” she said. “Tomorrow, then?”

“I'm free tomorrow,” he said. “I can meet you here at six, if you'd like.”

“That would be fine,” she said. “Is there anything you'd prefer to eat?”

“I am a fan of Indian food,” he said. “I tend to eat Chinese food most of the time so if we could avoid that I would prefer it.”

“Oh, the old standby of nights at home alone with takeaway,” she said with a nod. “Do you have a standing order at a local restaurant?”

“Two different Chinese restaurants,” he said with a wry smile. “Among other restaurants.”

“Isn't the life of a university professor slash consultant so thrilling?” she asked with a smile of her own.

“Yes, I suppose it is,” he said, his smile getting a bit wider. He stood up and looked at her. “Tomorrow at six, then?”

“Tomorrow at six,” she said with a nod.

“Till tomorrow, then,” he said. He turned and went to her door, and she took the opportunity to watch him walk away. It was a very nice view, she decided. He let himself out and she picked up her library book, seeing he had put in an actual bookmark to hold her place. She opened up the book and saw her ID was between the front cover and the first page, and so she took it out and reached over for her handbag to put it back in her wallet. When she was done she leaned back in her desk chair, wide smile on her face. Well, her problem certainly took a turn for the better, she thought to herself, and she was quite glad for that.


	3. Chapter 3

She'd let her mind wander over towards wondering what she would discover about her knight in shining armor quite a few times since he'd left her office, almost to distraction at a few points. Mary had given her amused glances during their lunch together once she'd explained she had an honest to God dinner date that evening. She had wrung out every scrap of information about the mysterious Sherlock that she could before leaving Molly to her thoughts, and when they got back to the university Molly had realized she was actually quite nervous and had let her entire lunch go by without asking for a bit of advice. Thankfully her second class of the day had a test, and she surprised her students by telling them they could leave when they were finished, so long as they turned in their assignments. While they worked she got on her mobile and began texting Mary and Sally, asking for any advice they could give on how to treat a knight.

By the time the last student was done with their test it had been nearly two thirty in the afternoon. It was one of her lighter days, in that she only had two classes instead of three, and so after her second class she went to her office and began to go through the assignments from her classes the day before. She'd done quite a few of them the night prior, but there were a few that needed more attention than she'd been able to devote to them by the time she'd turned in for the night. Not that she'd had her head entirely thinking about her students and their papers, since she'd had quite a few thoughts about the very fascinating man who she'd arranged a date with.

The fact he shared a love of helping with detective matters was quite intriguing. She did what she did as a way of acknowledging she was a legacy; she didn't have the strength to do what her father had done, because she had seen the way each case had eaten at him, especially the hard ones, and she knew she couldn't do that day in and day out. But she knew her way around a body, and she knew all sorts of different ways to end a life and how they would look to the inside as well as the outside of the body, and while she couldn't put the knowledge to use for Scotland Yard on a full time basis she was pleased to help how she could, giving a second look when it was requested. To meet someone else who was good at giving the second look was extraordinary, and she couldn't wait to talk to him about it. She'd found herself wondering what types of conversations they might have, what other things they might have in common.

And Sherlock was also very nice to look at, she'd realized in her office. She'd gotten a bit of a decent look at him at the pub, but it was dimly lit and her table was in one of the worst lit sections. She'd caught that he had striking eyes, though, and when she saw them again in her brightly lit office she saw they were a dazzling shade that seemed to change shades, going from blue to silver to green as he moved his head. He was also very tall and lean, but he had some muscles to him, she'd realized when he stood up to leave. The suits he'd worn were very well cut and fit him exquisitely. Yesterday she'd gotten an even better look and she had liked what she'd seen very much. And as it was inching closer and closer to her date, she found herself letting her mind wander, daydreaming about conversations and chances to see him in even less clothing.

The knock at the door was an unwelcome intrusion, and she blinked for a minute before focusing. “Yes?” she asked, leaning forward and folding her arms on her desk.

The door opened and she looked up to see one of the other people in her department come in. Phillip Anderson was usually pleasant enough, or at least he was when he needed her assistance. He was definitely into criminalistics, and he kept applying at Scotland Yard to get onto the forensics team there. Most people would look at teaching at a university like theirs as a very cushy job, the type of job you got and held onto for a long time; he simply looked at it as a stepping stone to something else. Molly thought it was supposed to be the other way around but to each their own, she supposed. He had his own contacts in Scotland Yard and occasionally they used him to ask for her help. She took one look at his face and she knew that was why he was here today. “I got a call from a friend today,” he said.

“And I suppose there's a body they'd like me to take a second look at?” she asked, biting back a sigh. This was not how she had anticipated her evening going. She had a date, for goodness sakes! Normally she loved doing these kinds of favors but really, today was the worst possible day.

He nodded. “Yes. The sooner the better, too. There's a lot of pressure for my friend to get this done right, and he thinks the person who did the original autopsy is incompetent.”

“That doesn't bode well,” she said quietly.

“Oh, he thinks you do brilliant work. And it was Carpenter who did the original autopsy.”

Molly winced. Kevin Carpenter was an institution more than anything else, having been around for quite a long time. Many people felt he should have retired a few years back, but he persevered and others were called in to correct his mistakes, tiny as they were, and to double check his work. One day he was going to make a major mistake, though, and he was going to be forced out. Everyone knew it, and she suspected that included Kevin Carpenter himself. She stood and then reached for her handbag. “All right. St. Bart's?”

“Yes,” Phillip said. “The body's waiting for you, along with the pertinent notes.”

“I'll head straight over, then,” she said. He shut the door behind him and she glanced at the clock on her desk. It was four eleven now, which meant if it took her a long time to finish she'd miss the date entirely. And she realized that she had no phone number for Sherlock, or knew nothing about him other than the university he taught at and the department he taught in. Wonderful. She paused for a moment and then pulled her notepad closer. It had kittens on it, playing with balls of yarn. It had been a gift from Sally in an effort to make her office seem more her, the first of many such gifts, and her students either found it endearing or gagged over it when they thought she couldn't hear. She had the feeling most of them thought she'd end up an old maid who was eaten alive by the dozens of cats she'd keep in her home. She wrote a quick note to Sherlock on it, folded it over and then wrote his name on the front. She took a bit of cellophane from the dispenser on her desk and when she got to her door she stuck the note to the front and then she left. Hopefully he would understand.

It took her nearly forty-five minutes to get to the hospital because of an accident on the way, and when she got there she found Carpenter had been quite livid that she was being asked to check his work and had locked all the original notes in a drawer that no one could seem to find a key for. She sighed when the harried pathologist informed her of that and then proceeded to pull her hair back into a knot at the nape of her neck, secure it with an elastic band, slip on a lab coat and begin to do the best that she could to recreate the autopsy report on her own. She kept glancing at the clock in the morgue, her heart sinking as it inched closer and closer to six, but this was important and needed to be done. If Sherlock didn't understand then perhaps he wasn't the man for her after all.

Six o'clock hit, then six fifteen and finally six thirty and there was nothing. She'd rather hoped for someone who had excellent deduction skills he'd find out her mobile number and call her, or at the very least he'd call St. Bart's and see if she was done yet and how much longer it might take, or see about rescheduling. She'd given up hope when she heard the doors open and she could smell shrimp fried rice and kung pao chicken. She lifted her head up and saw Sherlock standing there, two plastic bags filled with cardboard boxes in his hands. “Office?” he asked, pointing to the door of the office.

She lifted up her hand, giving him a smile. “Yes. I'm almost done. Maybe twenty more minutes?”

He nodded. “Then I'll wait for you there.”

“Okay,” she said. She glanced at the clock and saw it was six forty-eight now. She would definitely have to ask him how he figured out what she ate when she ordered Chinese, as soon as she was done with this autopsy. She continued to work, her spirits lifted, and eighteen minutes later she stripped off her gloves and deposited them in the medical waste bin before heading into the office. She was surprised to see he hadn't touched his food yet, instead sitting in the chair with his eyes closed and his fingers steepled together in front of his face. She cleared her throat and he opened them, and she gave him a smile. “I'm done now.”

“Good. It would have started to get cold if it had been much longer.” He glanced through the cartons, and then handed her the kung pao chicken. “I asked for an empty container as well, since I know you get steamed white rice. I'm assuming you mix them together.”

“I do,” she said with a nod. He reached over for an empty container and the steamed rice and a fork. She took some of the rice and put it in the empty container, and then added half the kung pao chicken before mixing it all together. She took a bite and shut her eyes. “You got this from the restaurant by my flat.”

“Our conversation in your office made me think that there had to be at least one Chinese food restaurant that would have a standing order for you. Even though I would rather have had Indian I wasn't sure if there was one nearby who would have a standing order. So as soon as I found out where you lived I found out the closest Chinese restaurant you most likely had a standing order at. They were quite happy to make your that order with your specifications.”

“Extra spicy,” she said with a smile before taking another bite. “Are there...?”

“Potstickers are in the container there,” he said, picking up a pair of chopsticks and pointing to a container with them. “And the egg rolls are in the bag, though if you're willing to share I would like one.” He paused. “They were surprised someone else was getting your meal for you but I said I was bringing you your meal as you were busy. I felt you might want to know that, in case they ask.”

“I really appreciate it, even if this isn't quite what was planned,” she said.

“I've spent enough time here in this office that it doesn't bother me,” he said with a slight shrug as he separated the chopsticks and then placed them between his fingers. “Though I will admit this is my first time having a meal here.”

“Sadly, it's not mine,” she said with a smile. “It's my first time having a date here, though.”

He gave her a slight smile. “So, I was correct to assume this is, in fact, a date?”

“Well, I'd certainly thought it was,” she said, frowning slightly. “Were you not entirely sure it was a date?”

“I don't actually date very much,” he said. “I believe the amount of proper dates I've been on could be counted on one hand before tonight.”

“And after tonight?” she asked.

“I still have a finger left over on that hand,” he said.

She relaxed slightly. “I've been out on more dates than that, but I don't date much myself. I just don't connect well with people.”

“I understand the feeling completely,” he said before eating some of his food. “Though I will admit, there are not many people I would bring a meal to a morgue for. But the more I learn about you the more intrigued I am.”

She stilled. “What do you mean by that?” she asked warily.

“Your friend Mary was the one who told me where you live and which Chinese restaurant you would probably frequent,” he said. “She had quite a few things to say about you, actually, all of which were overwhelmingly positive and very interesting.”

“Ah,” she said, relaxing again. She had some more of her food. “I suppose I don't need to murder her after all.”

“No, not at all.” He pointed at her with his chopsticks. “Before I get into evening things out and letting you learn more about me, though, do you need to type up results?”

“I probably should,” she said. “The pathologist who did the original autopsy threw a fit when he found out I was asked to do a second opinion so I don't know how much Phillip's friend knows about cause of death. My report may be all he has to go on.”

“Then I'll get up and you can type up the report, and then we can talk,” he said. “Does that sound fair?”

She nodded, giving him a smile. “That sounds more than fair.”

He nodded and then stood up, gesturing to the chair with the chopsticks. “I promise I will try not to distract you.”

“Thank you,” she said, moving to sit down. She set her food near the keyboard and then pulled up the program she used for her reports. Sherlock moved towards the far side of the desk and sat on it, and she settled into work. Despite things not going quite according to plan, so far it was turning into quite a pleasant evening. She just hoped it _stayed_ pleasant.


	4. Chapter 4

“An evening at the morgue isn’t romantic sounding for anyone except you,” Sally said as she, Mary and Molly were all sipping their coffee at the café they frequented on Saturdays after brunch at The Delaunay. It had been a tradition ever since the three of them met at a faculty meeting years prior, when the old head of the Social Sciences department had blatantly hit on all three of them. They’d gone out to a pub immediately after the meeting and then decided on the brunch and coffee the next day, and there were very few Saturdays they missed their regular date. “Did anything _interesting_ happen?”

“No,” Molly said, blushing. “We just talked about a lot of different things, and we made it a point to swap phone numbers.” She picked up her coffee and had a sip. “If neither of us get called in for consultations we have another date tonight, actually.”

“Ooooh, doing what?” Mary asked, her eyes sparkling.

“A lecture,” she said. “Maybe dinner afterward.”

“He sounds kind of boring,” Sally said. “Dates should be exciting. I mean, whose idea was it?”

“His,” Molly said.

“Only boring people want to go to lectures on dates,” Sally said.

“He’s not, not really. I mean, he’s a professor, so he’s doing that, but he’s a consultant for Scotland Yard, and he plays the violin, and he had some fascinating stories involving him and his best mate, who assists him with his cases sometimes. He’s a professor as well, teaching pre-med classes.”

Mary perked up. “Would his name be John, by any chance?” she asked.

“Yes,” Molly said slowly. “John Watson. Why?”

“I need to track him down. He owes me money,” she said. “I beat him fair and square at darts, with a tenner on each game. We played ten games and he lost each one and then took off without a word after flirting up a storm. He mentioned he taught pre-med and he was there with a friend, so…”

Molly chuckled. “I’ll see if I can help get you your money.”

“Or you can get your date to convince his best mate he can spend the money on a date with me. Though we won’t crash yours, thank you. I’m interested in something more interesting than a lecture.” Mary gave him a smile and then waved her hand towards Molly in a “go on” gesture. “Text Sherlock.”

Molly shook her head and pulled her mobile out of her handbag. She pulled up her text messaging and entered in a text. _I believe your friend John owes my friend Mary a substantial amount of money. She wants repayment._ she sent to him.

It took only a few minutes but he sent a reply fairly quickly. _He says he had hoped she’d forget._

_Not bloody likely. She wants a date. I can give you her number to give to him. They can work it out._

_All right. So long as it doesn’t interfere with our own date._ he texted back.

 _I promise it won’t._ she sent before texting Sherlock Mary’s number. “There. Sherlock has your number to give to John.”

“No, that wasn’t what I wanted,” Mary said.

“We’re not arranging a date for you,” Molly said. “You want to date him, you work it out.”

Mary was going to respond when her phone rang. She pulled it out, looked at the caller and then gave Molly a mild glare. “I suppose I have to take this,” she said.

“You’ll thank me later,” Molly said as Mary stood up and moved away from the table.

Sally grinned, shaking her head. “Sometimes I wish I was at the beginning of a relationship,” she said sadly. “Not stuck where I am now.”

“The open relationship thing isn’t working out?” Molly asked.

Sally shook her head. “No. I know he wants to have me on the side but be with other women. I know that. I just…” She sighed. “I really should walk away. I deserve better.”

“Will he let you?” she asked.

“He’s tired of me,” she said. “I think he won’t care.” Then she gave her friend a smile. “But we really should focus on you, and Mary, if she gets her date sorted out for tonight. You should get something pretty to impress your knight in shining armor.”

“Do you think so?” Molly asked.

“Oh yeah. I mean, we know Mary’s going to go for something quirky and sexy and fun but you…something academic but cute. I mean, lecture and all. But I think it’d be nice if you got part of Sherlock’s attention when whoever it is your listening to is speaking. It’s a nice feeling when a man won’t take his eyes off of you.”

“After coffee, then?” Molly asked. “The lecture isn’t for a few more hours.”

Sally nodded. “Sounds like a plan. Now we just need to wait and see what Mary’s plans are for the evening and how much we need to tart her up.”

They had some more of their coffee and when they were nearly done Mary came back, wide smile on her face. “Tomorrow I’m going to a Humphrey Bogart double feature,” she said with a smile. “And perhaps back to his flat afterward, if he keeps charming me.”

Molly shook her head. “Sally suggested we go shopping for something for my date, and yours too now.”

“Oh, that sounds perfect,” she said. “I’m thinking I need to find something that looks like it could have come straight out of Casablanca for this date. Time to hit some vintage resellers, maybe?”

“You could get something that would look cute that way maybe,” Sally said to Molly.

“And if we don’t find something perfect or you in two hours of to Harrods we’ll go,” Mary said. “I promise.”

“All right,” Molly said with a nod. The women gathered their things and went to Mary’s favorite shop to look around. After thirty minutes Molly didn’t think she’d find anything but then quite by accident she found what she thought was the perfect dress. It was a scoop necked dress, made out of salmon colored silk with multicolored sheer organza fabric draped over it in blues, pinks, brown and purples, all muted pastels, and at the waist was a wide satin ribbon in a darker shade of salmon. It wasn’t overly flashy but it wasn’t very prim and proper, seeming to strike a nice balance. Mary and Sally had both given it wide smiles when she’d come out in it.

Once she and Mary had gotten their outfits for the dates and a few other pieces of clothing paid for she headed home and decided to spruce up the look a bit. Her mother had given her a string of pearls when she was sixteen, and the delicate looking necklace looked perfect with the neckline. She fiddled around with her hair, finally deciding to gather it in a low knot at the back of her neck, and she did her make-up a little bit more dramatically than usual. All in all, she thought to herself when she was done, she looked very nice.

She was just slipping on her heels when her mobile began to ring. She went to her handbag and pulled it out, seeing it was Sherlock’s number. Her heart sank as she answered it. “Do you need to cancel?” she asked quietly.

“Just the lecture portion of our date,” he said. “I got tied up in my current consultation and I’m waiting for Krause to get the information needed to find the evidence to convict the murderer. It’s taking longer than I would like.”

“Oh,” she said.

“I will make it up to you,” he said.

“I suppose I should have expected this, considering something similar happened on our first date,” she said with a sad smile. “Do you know when you’ll be here?”

“Hopefully no later than six thirty,” he said. “I am sorry.”

“It’s all right,” she said. “At least you did a better job telling me than I did telling you.”

“Well, I have your mobile number, and you didn’t have mine,” he said. There was a pause. “I have to go, but I promise I will give you a decent enough date.”

“All right. I’ll see you when you’re done.” She hung up and then looked at Toby. “I suppose even knights in shining armor have other obligations sometimes.” Toby meowed in response and she moved to pick him up off her bed and pet him before leaving to occupy herself. Time ticked by and she began to get hungry. It was nearly six and she decided to make herself a quick bite to eat when there was a knock on the door. She wiped her hands on a kitchen towel and went to answer it, seeing Sherlock standing there with a black eye and blood on his white shirt. “What the bloody hell happened?” 

“The suspect fought back,” he said as she let him inside. As soon as she shut the door behind him she guided him to her sofa and nearly shoved him onto it. “Krause ended up having to shoot him in the shoulder when he tried to use me as a shield.”

“Oh my,” she said, looking at him. She went back into her kitchen to get some ice for his eye. “I take it he wasn’t successful?”

“I managed to get him into a position where he could be subdued, but as you can see, I didn’t get by unscathed,” he said. “And I doubt you want to be seen with me like this.”

“I want to make sure you’re all right,” she said. “Whose blood is on your shirt?”

“The suspect’s,” he said. “He only managed one punch, but it was a good one.”

She got the ice in a bag and then wrapped a towel around it before bringing it to him. He took it and she sat down next to him. “If you want, I can cook for you. I could probably whip up a curry fairly easily.”

“I should be taking you out,” he said. “Especially when you put in a great deal of effort.” He paused. “You do look very nice, by the way.”

She blushed. “I can change out of this and wear it some other time,” she said with a smile. “Let’s just get you taken care of and fed, and maybe we can figure out something to watch on the telly or something.”

“Thank you,” he said. “I don’t normally have anyone take care of me.”

“Well, don’t have this become a habit,” she said. “Let me go change and I’ll get to work on dinner, and while I cook you can tell me all about the case you were consulting on, all right?”

He nodded. “All right.”

She got up and made her way to her bedroom, mildly disappointed that things hadn’t gone according to plan but still glad he had come over. She was happy he had made it a point to see her and spend time with her even though she was sure he probably just wanted to wash his hands of the entire day, so if she could make it better she would at least try. _Eventually_ they’d end up on a proper date…one of these days.


	5. Chapter 5

All of the staff at the university had been called in for a meeting a week after the failed second date. It appeared as though there were the stirrings of a cheating scandal, and it stretched all the way up into the administration. Molly had asked Mary for details but she said she couldn’t say, other than her and Sally should both be unaffected. She wasn’t quite sure about her own job, however. The three women all sat by each other when the meeting came to order.

“It has been brought to the attention of the upper echelon of the university that there has been an extensive network of students cheating at exams,” Brian Carmichael said. “We have had it under investigation since last term, and the results have come to fruition. The perpetrators have been expelled, and the members of the faculty who have been complicit in it have been sacked.”

“How long have you known?” Sally asked Mary in a low whisper.

“Since the start,” Mary said, whispering back. “Ten members of the undergraduate faculty and two department heads lost their jobs today. Turned out with no references.”

“Have you met any of the new staff?” Molly asked quietly as Carmichael continued to drone on.

“Just two,” she said. She pointed to an older looking gentleman who looked a little nervous. “That’s Gregory Lestrade. He said to call him Greg. He’s actually quite nice. He’s taking over as head of the philosophy department. You might like him, Molly. Used to be involved in Scotland Yard back in the day. Said it didn’t suit him so he went back to school and got a degree in philosophy and then worked his way up so he could teach it. He’s quite lovely.”

“Quite handsome, too,” Sally said appreciatively.

“The other one I met is the sly looking one on the end,” she said, moving her finger. “James Moriarty. He’s going to be in the psychology department. I honestly don’t like him very much. He gives me the creeps.”

Molly studied both men. Greg seemed very open and approachable. He caught her staring at him and flashed her a grin and a very slight wave, and she found herself grinning back slightly. She turned her attention toward James. He seemed to be bored with everything, like he didn’t want to be there, and while he seemed to be rather handsome there was something about him that made her uneasy. She was fairly sure she was going to try and avoid him if she could.

Carmichael continued to drone on, and when he finally stepped aside Molly gave the new speaker her attention. After a moment he finished and Greg went up to the podium, and she began to listen more earnestly. He kept his remarks brief, interspersed with some dry but witty humor that made her laugh, and then it was back to Carmichael briefly before he disbanded the meeting. The faculty began to mingle a bit and Greg made a beeline towards the three of them. “Hello,” he said with a wide grin. “And hello again, Mary.”

“Hello again, Greg,” Mary said with a smile. “I want to introduce you to my best friends here. This is Molly Hooper, a professor in the Department of Pharmacy and Forensic Science, and Sally Donovan, who works in the office dealing with our international students.”

“Pleasure to meet you both,” Greg said, extending his hand towards Molly first, who shook it, and then Sally, who shook it as well. “That whole meeting was a bit of a bore, wasn’t it?”

“Carmichael’s meetings usually are,” Sally said. “Though it isn’t often we have a campus wide scandal on our hands. It would have been nice to hear a bit more about that. Especially since _someone_ knew all the dirt and said nothing.” She turned her gaze towards Mary at that point.

“Well, _I_ would have been sacked too if I said anything,” Mary said. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t say anything now. We can all go out to the pub and grab a pint and I can tell you everything I know. You too, Greg, if you’d like.”

“Sounds like a good way to spend a few hours,” he said with a nod.

“Well, I have to get something from my office but I’ll meet you there,” Molly said with a smile.

“Invite Sherlock,” Mary said. “I’ll invite John. I’m sure they’ll get a kick out of hearing dirt on their rival university.”

“I’ll see if he’s available, though…” she said.

“Oh, you two haven’t had an actual date yet,” Mary said, closing her eyes as she remembered. “Yeah. Night out gossiping at the pub isn’t a proper date. You know, if he’s available, go have dinner. We can always fill you in at brunch tomorrow. I doubt Sally will mind hearing it all twice.”

“I definitely won’t mind.” She leaned over and gave Molly a hug. “Go out and have a proper date with your knight, all right?”

“I’ll try,” she said, hugging Sally back. Mary gave her a quick hug as well and then she left the meeting area, making her way outside. She had a ways to walk to get to the building that housed her office, but as it wasn’t worth trying to catch a ride that way she didn’t mind most of the time. She’d just gotten out of the building when someone tapped her on the shoulder. She started, then turned and saw she was looking at James Moriarty. “Sorry. You startled me.”

“Didn’t mean to,” he said. She was surprised at his accent; she hadn’t heard it often here in London. “This isn’t exactly the best time to be walking alone.”

“I suppose not,” she said. “But I was only headed to my office.”

“I could walk with you,” he said.

She froze. Here there were people, but there it would be just them. She looked back at the building. The way he was looking at her definitely made her feel strange. “You know, I forgot I had to tell my friend Mary something,” she said, giving him a smile. “If you’ll excuse me?”

He nodded. “Have a good evening.” 

She darted back into the building but by the time she got back to the meeting room Mary, Sally and Greg had already left. She didn’t want to go back outside and so she sat down in one of the chairs and pulled out her mobile, pulling up Sherlock’s number. She hesitated a moment, then dialed it. It rang twice before he picked it up. “Molly?”

“Are you busy?” she asked hesitantly.

“Nothing I can’t put off for a time. Just grading midterm exams. Why?”

“I think I need to be rescued again,” she said. “There’s a new professor who unnerves me and he was waiting for me outside, I think, and my friends are gone and—”

“Can you get to your security office without passing him?”

“Yes,” she said.

“Wait there. I’ll come get you,” he said. “I’ll be there soon.”

“All right,” she said. He hung up and she lowered her mobile. Her own exams would have to wait until morning. She did not want to have to go near James again if she could help it. She made her way out the other doors and down to where the security office was. She knew both guards there and chatted with them for nearly a half hour before she saw Sherlock. “Thank you for coming,” she said.

“It wouldn’t do for me to leave you stranded,” he said. She made her good-byes to the guards as she stood and then she and Sherlock left. “Have you eaten yet?”

She shook her head. “No. I was going to get my exams and then go home and have leftover lasagna while I graded them. We had a campus wide faculty meeting this evening so I didn’t have many plans other than that.”

“Then let me treat you,” he said. “This might be that date we keep trying and failing to have.”

She gave him a grin. “All right,” she said with a nod. They left the building and after a moment she looked around. “I’m in the mood for Thai. How about you?”

“Thai sounds acceptable,” he said.

“Then we can go to Thai Square. It’s quite close,” she said. It wasn’t very late in the evening but as it was a relatively nice evening the pavement was busy. After they had been walking for a moment he moved his hand over. She looked over and then grasped it, threading her fingers between his. “You really are my knight in shining armor.”

“I think it’s a bit more tarnished than you believe, but I suppose so,” he said. “It is a rather nice position to be in.”

“Well, I’ll try not to put you in it too often,” she said with a soft laugh. “I mean, I do know how to take care of myself even if I seem meek and timid. I carry self defense spray and my father and his friends taught me everything they knew about self defense. Plus my mum got me into Krav Maga.”

Sherlock looked impressed. “Perhaps I didn’t need to rescue you at the pub after all,” he said.

“Well, there’s a difference between using all that on the street and using all that in a social setting,” she admitted. "I tend to freeze up in social settings. I’m working on it, though. So it was a good thing you rescued me. Plus, I ended up meeting a very nice and handsome bloke out of the deal.”

“Did you now,” he said with a grin.

“Yes. I’m sure he’s around here somewhere,” she said, her grin taking on a slightly devious taint.

He stopped and pulled her close. She looked up at him, still smiling, waiting to see what he did next and not caring that they were in the middle of the pavement and that there were so many people around. “I believe I might know where this man you’re looking for is,” he said. “He’s approximately eight centimeters in front of you, holding you close and wondering if it would be all right to kiss you.”

“Well,” she said, her smile getting wider as she closed the gap between them, “it just so happens that _is_ the man I was looking for, so I think it would be quite all right if he kissed me.”

“Good,” he murmured before leaning in as she raised herself up slightly. He pressed his lips against hers softly, and she sighed into the very nice kiss after a moment. He took that as a sign of encouragement and deepened it, flicking his tongue gently against her lips, and she opened them for him as he deepened the kiss, suddenly feeling as though it was just the two of them and no one else in the world mattered. They continued the kiss for a few more moments before he pulled away. “I must say, that was a very nice kiss.”

“It was,” she said, smiling up at him. “I think it was one of the best I’ve ever had.”

“I think it might be very hard to get through dinner,” he said.

“But just think: we have a good-night kiss to get through, unless I invite you in for coffee, and then we can have several,” she said. “But dinner first. No coffee until there’s a proper date.”

He chuckled softly. “I suppose we should have one at some point. Tonight is as good as any.”

“I’m glad you feel that way,” she said before pulling away. She gave him her hand again and he took it, and she realized she felt on top of the world. This was the most wonderful feeling, and she sincerely hoped nothing ruined this feeling any time soon.


	6. Chapter 6

She had indeed invited Sherlock in for coffee after they had dinner, and he had stayed for quite a while, mostly parked on her sofa with her. They had actually ignored the coffee and concentrated on snogging each other, which suited her just fine. When he did finally leave at some point around midnight she had nearly floated off to bed, wide smile on her face.

Molly had smiled widely when she woke up the next morning, too, getting ready for brunch with Sally and Mary. Sherlock had said if she’d let him spend the day grading his exams he’d take her out for dinner that evening. She needed to do the same so she agreed. She arrived at The Delaunay with a spring in her step. Sally and Mary were at their usual table, courtesy of Sally’s brother, who was one of the staff there. It wasn’t one of the best tables, but it was a very nice one. They looked up and Mary had a wide smile on her face. “ _Someone_ must have had a good evening,” she said.

“I’ll say,” Sally said with a smirk. “You look like a cat who ate a canary.”

“I just had a very good date, that’s all,” she said, settling her skirt before sitting down in her chair. “And after the date was really nice, too.”

Mary’s eyes got wide. “Did you and Sherlock…?”

“We didn’t go _that_ far,” Molly said, a blush tingeing her cheeks. “But we had our first kiss, and then several more, and they were quite lovely.”

“Details, woman,” Sally said, leaning forward.

“We went to dinner and on the way there we were flirting a bit and we just stopped in the middle of the pavement and then we kissed,” she said. “We went through dinner and there were all sorts of glances and such, and then I invited him in for coffee and we didn’t actually drink the coffee, we just sat on my sofa for a while. A very long while.”

“How long?” Mary asked.

“We got to my home just after nine and he left around midnight?” she said with a smile.

“So we can tell he’s a very good kisser if the two of you spent three hours snogging,” Mary said with a nod as she picked up her coffee. “Do you have plans to do any more of that?”

“Dinner tonight, when we’re done with our grading,” she said. The waiter came by and brought her her usual coffee order, which she took with a smile. “I don’t know where.”

“Well, I think it’s great that you two finally got to a point where things worked out,” Sally said with a smile. “I’m happy for you.”

“And I think Molly will be happy for you, too,” Mary said with a knowing grin in Sally’s direction.

“Oh?” Molly asked, turning to look at Sally.

“Greg and I got into a really nice conversation last night. We ended up talking for hours and hours, and it was nice. I told him about everything, about the whole situation I was in, and my boyfriend wanting to do the open relationship thing. He said I deserved better, because from the sound of it my boyfriend was just looking for an excuse to have as much as he could and keep me on the side. And you know, he’s right. And I don’t want to be on the side. I want a man who wants just me, and doesn’t want to share me with anyone else. So I called him and broke it off. And I don’t care how much he begs, I won’t take him back if he’s the last man on earth. I’d rather be alone then be with him.”

Molly got up and gave Sally a hug, and Sally hugged her back. “Oh, I’m so happy for you, love. I’m glad you’re doing what’s right for you.”

“I’m glad too,” she said. She let go of Molly and then Molly went back to her seat. “I need to put myself first, do what’s in my own best interest. And…there might be a rather nice man in my own future, when I’m ready.”

“Really?” Molly asked.

Sally nodded. “Greg definitely seemed interested in me, but not until after I’d figured a few things out. Decided what I wanted for myself, what I felt I deserved. I think he’ll wait around for me to figure it all out.”

“Good,” Molly replied with a wide grin. Then she turned to Mary. “And how are things with you and John going, hmm?”

“Well enough,” Mary said with a grin. “We have another date planned for tomorrow. He says there’s a game you can play at the Granary Square fountains that involves the fountains and your smartphone and scientific calculators and snakes. Sounded a bit fun. Said he’d top it off with dinner at Dishoom since I like Indian.”

The waiter came back then and asked if they wanted their usuals. Sally and Mary said yes, which meant Sally was going to get the Viennese breakfast and fresh fruit salad while Mary was going to get a smoked salmon and cream cheese bagel and an omelette with everything. Molly studied the menu, as she chose something different each time. She ended up ordering an almond croissant, a praline & hazelnut pretzel and smoked salmon and scrambled eggs. When he was gone Molly looked over at them. “That seems like fun,” she said with a grin.

“We could always make it a double date,” she said. “I don’t think John would mind, and I know I wouldn’t. Or maybe a triple, if you want to invite Greg as a not-date date, Sally.”

“It could be interesting,” Sally said after thinking about it for a moment. “And I think he’d enjoy it. We can go as respective third wheels, since him and John seemed to hit it off fairly well.”

“Then I’ll bring it up to John and we can see what he says,” she said. “But I want to hear more about what Molly’s date was like, don’t you, Sal?”

“Indeed I do,” Sally said with a nod. “So spill.”

“There isn’t much more to tell,” Molly said. “I mean, we ended up having the date because I called him because that one new professor made me nervous.”

“You mean that Moriarty bloke?” Sally asked. Molly nodded. “He does give me the creeps. I really don’t like him.”

“Yeah, he’s a shifty one,” Mary said quietly. “if you can, just avoid him. I think it would be better, in the long run.”

“I was already planning on it,” Sally said, picking up her coffee and taking a sip.

“I was too,” Molly said. “I was thinking about telling Sherlock, too. You know…just in case.”

“I think that would be a very good idea,” Mary said. They remained quiet for a moment before Mary waved her hand. “All right, enough being maudlin. Give us details about the dinner.”

“And the snogging,” Sally said with a grin. “We all know that’s what Mary wants to hear about most.”

Mary swatted at Sally’s shoulder as Molly laughed and launched into details. When she ran out of details about her date they began to talk about other things, all the way through their meal. Soon the brunch was over and they went their separate ways, and after a quick stop to get her exams from her office Molly headed home to grade them. She was so wrapped up in the task that she lost track of time, and it was with a shock that she heard a knock on her door some time later. She looked at the clock on her wall and saw it was nearly five forty-five. She pulled herself away from her table and went to the door, opening it and seeing Sherlock there. “I am so not ready for a date,” she said apologetically.

“I should have called,” he said.

“It’s all right. Is it a fancy kind of date?” she asked as he came inside. 

He shook his head. “No, much more casual. Science talk, mostly, though it’s a science talk at a bar.” She noticed he had one hand behind his back and he pulled it out, revealing he had a dozen roses in his hand. “I thought you might like these.”

“They’re lovely,” she said with a smile, taking them from him. “Thank you.” She leaned over and kissed him softly, being careful not to crush the roses between them, but trying to be close. “Let me put these in water and freshen up a little and then we can go.”

“Well, it doesn’t start until seven,” he said. “We have time.”

“Oh, good,” she said, going to her kitchen to get a vase from under the sink. “What’s the topic?”

“Two topics. The first is quantum physics, and the second should pique your interest. The speaker will be a histopathologist, speaking about the mechanics of the body and pathology’s role in deciphering them.”

“And this talk is happening at a bar?” she asked, surprised.

“One of John’s students goes there for various events. It’s called The Book Club. He told John about tonight’s event so John is giving out extra credit to any of his pre-med students who attend the pathology portion tonight. And I thought it might interest you, all things considered.”

“It certainly does,” she said with a smile. She took the wrapping off the roses and put them into the vase and then filled it with water. “It will definitely be a unique second date.”

“I’m hoping so,” he said. “And I’m hoping there’s the chance I could get invited in for coffee again.”

“Should I actually make coffee this time?” she asked, moving towards him again.

He thought about it a moment. “I probably wouldn’t,” he said as she placed her hands on his chest. He settled his hands on her waist. “Cold coffee only tastes good if it’s poured over ice, not if it’s been sitting there for hours.”

“And you’d like to stay for hours?” she asked.

“It depends on how late we stay at the bar,” he said, leaning in. “If we stay quite late we might actually need the coffee.”

“I’ll have to keep that in mind,” she said softly before kissing him again. It felt quite nice to kiss him, she realized. She enjoyed it quite a bit, but if she wanted to look nice and not as though she’d slaved away for a large chunk of the day over exams she should freshen up a bit. She pulled away with some reluctance. “Let me change into something warmer and fix my make-up and then we can go.”

“You look perfectly fine as you are,” he said. “Quite lovely, in fact.”

She beamed at him. “Well, if you really think so then I suppose we can go now,” she said. “Is there food there?”

“I think there’s bar food, but it can be quite filling,” he said. “And as it is a bar, the drinks are good as well.”

“Good,” she said, going to get her coat. She reached for her handbag once she had that on and pulled out her keys. “Let’s eat when we get there, and then I can concentrate on what they’re talking about.”

He nodded. “That sounds like a feasible plan,” he said. They left her flat and then went out to the street and got a cab. He gave the driver the name of the bar and the address and they were on their way. She stayed close and they talked as they were driven there. When they got out she saw it looked quite busy. They made their way inside and to the bar, and examined the menu. It all looked quite good, and as she hadn’t eaten since brunch she realized she was quite famished. In the end they ordered a meat and vegetarian platter to split, so that they could pick and choose what they wanted, while Molly also got the salt & pepper calamari. For drinks Sherlock decided to simply have a cola while Molly took a look at the cocktail menu and decided on a Ginny Weasley.

They settled into their seats and she looked around. “I think if tonight goes well I’d like to come back,” she said. “Either with you or with Mary and Sally.”

“This does seem like an interesting place,” he said with a nod. He looked over at her. “Hopefully tonight will go well.”

She moved closer to him and then leaned over. “I think tonight will go quite well, so long as I don’t run into any men who want to try and grope me or fellow professors who make me nervous,” she said with a smile.

“Well, I’ll protect you as best I can,” he said with a grin.

She leaned in more, her lips hovering near his. “Good,” she said before kissing him. She’d tell him more about James Moriarty later, she decided. Right now she just wanted to enjoy her date, enjoy her evening with Sherlock, and forget about anything bad for at least a little while longer.


	7. Chapter 7

The game at the Granary Square fountains was actually quite fun. It took a bit to get the hang of it, but it turned out to be an absolute blast. They’d decided to have an impromptu competition to see who could keep their snake alive the longest, and the winners would have their meal covered by everyone else. They split up into pairs: Sherlock and Molly, John and Mary and Sally and Greg. Sally and Greg surprised everyone by keeping their snake alive the longest, and were thus declared the winners. They said they were fine with having their meal covered but Greg said he’d gladly cover any drinks they wanted to have afterward.

The six of them trooped over to Dishoom afterward. Molly liked the place the minute they were inside, as it smelled delectable and the décor was amazing. They all went over their menus and Mary lamented over the fact they hadn’t called in advance to have a group meal, so they decided to try and have something similar, each ordering different plates and then everyone sampling a bit off everyone else’s plate. Molly made sure that she ordered the gunpowder potatoes, the Masala prawns and the Dishoom calamari, and two servings of each. The meal was going to cost a small fortune, she knew, but Sally and Greg said they’d pitch in for the meal anyway so everyone just decided to split it evenly. It’d be worth it.

“So we definitely have to do things like this more often,” Mary said, taking a bite of one of the plates of far far they’d asked to be brought to the table first. “All of us as a group. So far I’ve had a very pleasant evening.”

“It has been a lot of fun,” Greg said. “I had no idea that the game at the fountains even existed.”

“I listen to what my students talk about,” John said with a grin, picking up his own piece of far far. “There are a few math nerds in my classes who enjoy the challenge. I have a few other ideas for things to do as a group, if this is something we could all stand to do again.”

“I’d enjoy it,” Sally said with a nod. “It’d do well to expand my group of friends beyond Mary and Molly. I mean, you three blokes aren’t too bad.”

“I’m honored by the compliment,” Greg said with a grin towards her, and Sally blushed a bit. “But yeah, I’d be game for more things like this.”

“What about you two?” Mary asked Molly and Sherlock. “Don’t worry, we’ll leave you two plenty of time to be alone amidst those cases you two work on the side.”

“I don’t have a problem with spending time with all of you,” Sherlock said, looking over at Molly. “I suppose I should socialize more.”

“I think it’d be fun,” Molly said with a grin towards him before turning to everyone else. “Do we want to make this a standing thing?”

“Well, Fridays and Saturdays are good days, since we don’t have classes the next day,” John said thoughtfully. “But those are good date nights, too.”

“What about Thursday nights?” Sally suggested. “We’re all fairly free on Fridays. If we stay out a bit late on Thursdays, there isn’t too much danger of it bothering us on a Friday.”

There were nods and murmurs of agreement around the table, and after a moment Mary nodded. “All right, then. Thursday nights we’ll make arrangements to get together to do something, just the six of us. If plans change they change, just try and let someone know, but figure, meet up around six or so?”

“That sounds good,” Molly said with a nod.

“I could agree to that,” Sherlock said.

“Works for me,” Greg replied

Sally and John nodded, and so Mary did as well. “All right then. Thursdays at six it is. So who gets to come up with what we do next week?”

“I’ll do it,” Greg said. “I have a few ideas of interesting stuff to do in this town.”

“Excellent,” John said with a grin. “Then I get to save my ideas for impressing Mary.”

Mary shook her head, red dotting her cheeks slightly. “Stop it, you.” 

Molly chuckled. “You two are quite a cute couple,” she said.

“Look who’s talking,” Mary countered, gesturing to her and Sherlock. “It’s nice to see you actually out and about with someone. I’d have thought you’d end up a spinster for the rest of your life.”

“I doubt that,” Greg said, shaking his head. “As lovely and sweet as she is? Someone would have caught on that she was worth going after sooner or later. It’s just a good thing it was Sherlock and not someone like that Moriarty bloke.”

The small smile that had been on Sherlock’s face slipped off his face. “Moriarty?” he asked quietly.

Sally nodded. “One of the other new professors at the university, James Moriarty. He had his eye on Molly at the meeting we had where the new faculty was introduced.”

Sherlock looked over at Molly. “Was he the one who made you nervous, the evening you called me?” he asked her.

She nodded. “Yes. He came up and offered to walk me to my office, when I was going to get my exams to grade. I just felt…uneasy.”

“You should,” he said. “James Moriarty is bad news. Avoid him if you can.”

Molly nodded. “We’d already planned on that,” she said, reaching over for his hand. He had it balled in a fist and she lightly placed it over his fist until he opened it. Then she looked back at their friends. “Could you all excuse us for a bit?”

“Of course,” Mary said, nodding. 

Molly looked at Sherlock and then nodded towards the door of the restaurant before standing up. After a moment he did the same, and she took his hand in hers before they headed outside to the pavement. She leaned against the outside wall of the restaurant and he moved next to her. “You have history with James,” she said softly.

He nodded. “We went to university together,” he said, looking down at the pavement. “We were in the same dormitory. There was an…incident. Someone got hurt. He was behind it, I knew he was behind it, but I could never prove it. He walked away scot free and Victor never fully got over it.” He sighed. “I tried the rest of my time at university to prove Moriarty’s guilt but I was unsuccessful. I managed to make his life hellish enough, though, and he vowed to return the favor one day. And then we went our separate ways and I haven’t seen hide nor hair of him since. Now he’s shown up at your university, and…I worry he’ll try to hurt you, once he realizes we’re close.”

She pushed herself away from the wall and moved in front of him, stepping into his personal space. He reached forward, pulling her close as she reached up to caress his face. “I do know a few ways to keep myself safe,” she said. “And I can start carrying a few more things in my handbag to protect myself.”

“It’s more than that, though,” he said, running a hand up and down her back. “He plays mind games. He’s good at playing them, too.”

“I won’t let them affect me,” she said. “He won’t hurt me, I swear it.” She leaned in and kissed him softly. “I promise.”

“I know,” he murmured. “I’ll make sure of it.” When he was done he kissed her again, heedless of the fact they were in public. He was quite scared, she realized as he pulled her close. He was scared that James Moriarty would hurt her or ruin what they had. But she would be damned if she’d let him. She cared about Sherlock, far more than she probably should at this stage in their relationship, and no one and nothing was going to change that, so help her. She would fight for this relationship to work, tooth and nail, and that was all there was to it.


	8. Chapter 8

After the group date the next few dates they had took place at her flat. She didn’t mind the first two times, but the third, when he showed up with bags of food from Zengi that smelled quite delectable, she raised an eyebrow. “I take it our days of actually going out on dates has come to an end?” she asked as she moved out of the way to let him in.

He sighed as he entered her flat. “I just want to keep you safe,” he said quietly.

“James doesn’t know where I live, Sherlock,” she said, shutting the door behind him. “He isn’t even on the university campus right now. None of the new professors start until next term unless they’re a department head. That’s why Greg is around often, since he’s the new head of the philosophy department. He’s trying to sort things out before next term.” He moved towards her kitchen with the bags and she followed, looking around him. “What did you get?”

“For starters I got mosul kibbeh and boreg and tourshi, since I know you like pickles. The main dishes I got for us to split were lamb tagine with an extra side of couscous, the Zengi mixed grill and tiger prawn shish. There’s also baklava for dessert. I _also_ managed to talk them into giving me a bottle of Clos Blanc for you to have here at home,” he said as he pulled out a bottle. “According to the very helpful person I dealt with, it's a Lebanese wine that's a fresh  & crispy blend of Chardonnay, Sauvignon Blanc, Ugni Blanc & Clairete with hints of tropical fruits, lime & honey. It should still be chilled.”

“It all looks divine,” she said with a smile. She took the bottle from him and went to go get them some glasses. “Do you want some?”

“I think I’d like to try it,” he said with a nod. She pulled down two glasses and then opened the bottle, pouring them each some. She took him a glass as he managed to get everything out and opened. He pulled down plates and bowls for them and then got cutlery to serve the food with. Once it had been served he got them the utensils needed to eat it and they took the food to her sofa to sit down there. “What was on the viewing menu tonight?”

“Miss Marple,” she said, having a sip of her glass of wine. It really was quite an excellent wine. She set the glass down when she was done and picked up the remote. “The old Joan Hickson versions. I have ‘They Do It with Mirrors,’ ‘Murder at the Vicarage’ and ‘Nemesis.”

“The best Miss Marple,” he said approvingly. “Though I was always a Poirot person.”

“You would be,” she said with a smile, turning on the television with the remote. She turned on the DVD player and hit play. “’They Do It with Mirrors’ is the first one.”

“Remind me which one that is?” he asked.

“The one that takes place at the reformatory for young criminals,” she said, picking up her plate to take a bite. “Miss Marple figures out the who but not the how early on, which is why I like it so much.”

“I think that will be quite interesting,” Sherlock said with an approving nod, picking up his own plate. They ate for a while, paying attention to the episode, and as the food was nearly finished her attention began to drift. She didn’t _mind_ having dates in, but she’d rather have had it be because he wanted to spend time cuddling with her in privacy. He noticed after a while and reached over to pause the DVD. “What is it?”

She bit her lip slightly. “Do you really think he’ll do something?” she asked.

Sherlock nodded slowly. “He vowed to pay me back for the hell I made his life in university,” he said quietly. “Ruining a relationship with a person I care greatly for would be an excellent revenge.”

Molly reached over, turning his face so she was looking at her and then caressing his face. “I won’t let him ruin our relationship, Sherlock,” she said matter-of-factly. “I don’t care what he tries to do or if he tries to hurt me. I won’t let him. You’re too important to me.”

He shook his head, just a bit. “You don’t know him,” he said. “You don’t know what he’s capable of, the mind games he can play.”

“Then we will do whatever we can to make sure it doesn’t work. We’ll talk, often. We won’t let him sow seeds of doubt. We’ll be open and honest, all right?”

He nodded, then reached up to grasp one of her hands and kissed her palm. “All right,” he said when he was done. Molly wrapped her arms around his neck and stayed close to him as he wrapped his arms around her and held her close. Hopefully this would at least convince him he didn’t need to be so fearful, so scared that James would ruin everything. She wanted things with him to work out, and she wasn’t about to let some revenge obsessed wanker ruin something as good as what she had with Sherlock. And if it came to him trying to physically hurt her…well, her father and his friends had taught her quite a few ways to protect herself. She had confidence that she would be fine.

She just hoped she could get _Sherlock_ to share that confidence sooner rather than later.


	9. Chapter 9

There was a knock on her office door around five thirty Thursday afternoon. Molly looked up from the papers she was looking at and smiled when she saw Sherlock coming in. “Don’t you feel at all in danger stepping foot on a rival university campus?” she said with a smile, setting down the paper and getting up from her chair.

“I doubt very few people here realize I’m a professor,” he said, shutting the door behind him as she moved away from her desk. “I get told I look too young.”

“I think you look just old enough to set certain girls hearts aflame,” she said.

“So long as one of them is yours the rest don’t matter,” he said when she got closer. He pulled her close to him and she leaned in to kiss him, smiling against his lips. It was nice to see their chat had made a difference, in that he was being open about their relationship in public again. Or at least semi-open; at the moment, at least, they were behind closed doors. After a few minutes he pulled away. “I thought I might pull you away for dinner somewhere out in public tonight.”

“That sounds lovely,” she said with a smile, reaching up to play with the lapels of his suit jacket. “Any place in particular?”

“Pennethorne's Cafe Bar,” he said. “You had mentioned you wanted to try it and I thought tonight would be a good night.”

Her smile got wider. “That does sound nice. Any other plans for the evening?”

“I was thinking afterward a film, perhaps. If you’d like.”

“I would like that a lot,” she said with a nod. “I need to do something first before we go. I made biscuits last night and dropped off everyone’s batches that work here except Greg’s. He said he’d be in his office until six, so I still have time to go take him his plate.”

“Are there any for me?” he asked.

She laughed then kissed him softly. “Yours are at my flat, in a nice little box with a bow. A different box and a different bow than everyone else’s, because it’s bigger.”

Sherlock gave her a grin and then kissed her again and she melted against him. She loved kissing him, loved being close to him. She considered being even closer, but she knew it wasn’t time yet. She knew him well, she thought, but not well enough for that, not yet. She’d know when she got to that point. Until then, though, she had delicious dreams at night that left her wondering if reality was going to match up.

When he finally let her go she went to her desk and opened up the drawer to get Greg’s box of biscuits, and then set it on the desk before getting her coat to put on. It was starting to get chilly now and she found herself bundling up more. She’d have to see if Sally and Mary wanted to go shopping for new fall clothing soon. Once she was ready she picked up the box and then made her way with Sherlock to the building where the philosophy department faculty was housed. As they got closer to Greg’s temporary office, she could hear muted sounds of arguing between men, and every once in a while a woman’s voice. When they were close enough to make out voices Molly realized it was Sally interjecting in an argument between Greg and her ex.

“Lance, he’s a friend,” she was saying. “Not that you have any say over those. We’re through, remember? I don’t want an open relationship. You either are completely committed to me or you pick one of the tarts.”

“You’re mine, Sal,” her ex was saying. There was a click and Sherlock’s eyes widened. He put a finger to his lips and moved slowly to the door, trying to open it soundlessly. 

Suddenly there was the sounds of a scuffle and then a shot and he swung the door open regardless of whether it made soon and the two of them made their way into the room in time to see Greg disarm the man of a gun. Molly scrambled to pick it up so Lance couldn’t get it again, holding it like it was a live snake. Greg saw Sherlock there and grunted as Lance struggled. “Little help here, Sherlock?”

Sherlock nodded and went over to help subdue Lance as people crowded to the door. Sally’s eyes were wide and she was shaking and Molly moved over to her. “Are you all right?” she asked. “Did you get hit?”

Sally shook her head. “It went into the desk,” she said. Molly set the gun on the desk and embraced her friend. “He was going to kill me, Molly.”

“I know,” she said, running a hand on her back. She looked over and saw Greg had a knee in lance’s back and Sherlock was coming over. She nodded to the gun and he picked it up. “The bullet didn’t hit her.”

“Good,” he said, turning to look at the door. “I’m afraid our reservations will be dashed. We’ll need to stay and talk to the…” He trailed off when he saw Moriarty at the door. “Police,” he finished quietly.

Molly saw him too, studying the scene and then moving away, a slight gleam in his eyes. “He was bound to find out sooner or later,” she said.

“I know,” he said with a sigh. “I suppose it was too much to hope for it would have been later.” He shook his head. “I’ll see if I can push our reservations back and perhaps get a table for four. Or maybe see about hitting up a good pub?”

“Hitting up a good pub,” Molly and Sally chorused, and Sally gave her a weak smile. 

Sherlock nodded. “Then I’ll cancel the reservations and we can go another time, Molly. I think our friends need us more tonight.”

She gave him a nod and a small smile. “I think they do too,” she said. He moved away and she turned her attentions to Sally, comforting her friend, but in the back of her mind she had the nasty niggling thought that perhaps, in time, this scene might be reversed…or worse, it would play out to the worse possible conclusion, with either her or Sherlock, or both, dead. She was not looking forward to what was to come.


	10. Chapter 10

Brunch that Saturday was a bit more subdued than usual. Mary got her usual but Sally didn’t, opting for pancakes with blueberries and crème fraîche and fresh fruit salad while Molly got pain au chocolat, pink grapefruit and smoked salmon and scrambled eggs. Sally picked at her napkin slightly and Molly looked over at her. “Are you all right?” she asked.

“He came to the university with a gun,” she said quietly. “He was planning on hurting me or hurting Greg. Or both of us. And if it hadn’t been for you and Sherlock he just might have done it.”

“Lance had always intimidated me,” Mary said. “I mean, I didn’t think he’d go that far, but he seemed to be someone…” She groped for the words to explain what she meant to say. 

“Someone you wanted to be wary of?” Sally supplied, giving Mary a wry grin. “I know what you mean. I just didn’t see it until after I’d already gotten involved with him. But he had me wrapped around his finger, and when I finally wanted to get out, finally had the strength, he didn’t want to let me go.”

“I think you were quite brave standing up to him,” Molly said, reaching over to pat Sally’s hand. “You and Greg both.”

“I suppose we were,” Sally said with a sad smile. “I just…I didn’t expect it. I didn’t expect him to go that far.”

“None of us would have,” Mary said. “But he’s locked up where he belongs and that’s that.”

“Yeah,” Sally said, going back to picking at her food.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” a woman said as she approached their table. Molly looked up and saw a woman with dark hair pulled back in a fancy curled up do, wearing a salmon colored V-necked sheath, held in at the waist with a bronzed double belt, and an expensive looking gold necklace. She had a gold clutch tucked under her arm. “Were you involved with the gunman on the campus of King’s College?”

Mary gave her a hard glare. “We were having a private conversation, Miss…?”

“Adler,” the woman said. “Irene Adler.” She gave an apologetic smile. “I didn’t mean any harm. I just…I know that stories get blown out of proportion and I didn’t want to go passing along any wrong facts. That would cause more harm than good.”

“You shouldn’t be passing along stories at all,” Mary said with an edge to her voice. 

“We were involved,” Sally said. Mary looked at her with wide eyes. “Mary, it’s going to get out. You know how gossip is on university campuses.” She turned back to Irene. “The gunman was my ex-boyfriend. He thought I was getting too cozy with a professor on campus, so he came after us with a gun. My friend Molly here and her boyfriend helped subdue him and he’s been arrested and is in lock-up now.”

“I see,” Irene murmured. She gestured to the empty seat at their table. “May I?”

“No” Mary said.

“Mary!” Molly said. She turned to Irene. “I’m sorry. We’re just a bit…”

“No, no, I understand,” Irene said. “That must have been a frightful experience. I can’t imagine going through something like that and keeping my head.”

“It was a bit upsetting,” Molly said, giving Irene a small smile. “But we’ll cope.” 

“That’s good to hear,” Irene said. “Well, if I hear anyone spreading false rumours I’ll make sure to correct them. And once again, I’m sorry to interrupt your brunch.” She gave them all a nod and then moved away from their table.

“Of all the nerve,” Mary said, glaring at Irene’s retreating figure. "Fishing for information on something like that. I swear there are days I hate people.” She picked up her drink and took a sip before crossing her arms. “Oh, that was as fake a smile as I’d ever seen.”

“Well, people are going to talk,” Sally said. “They might as well tell the truth.”

“Unless they twist the truth for their own means,” Mary said. “I don’t…I don’t trust her. There’s a vibe I get from that woman. I just…I don’t know. Something doesn’t seem quite right.”

Molly bit her lip slightly. While she saw Mary’s point of view and thought it was quite valid she didn’t know this Irene Adler at all and didn’t want to make any judgments on the woman. “I suppose,” she ended up saying.

Mary uncrossed her arms and waved her hands. “We came out to forget about all of this,” she said after a moment. “Let’s talk about other things. Any other things. Molly, do you and Sherlock have any plans coming up?”

She nodded. “We were going to try to go to Pennethorne's Cafe Bar again tonight, and maybe follow it up with a film. I’m not sure if we’re going to see it at the cinemas or go back to one of our flats.”

“Have you actually been to his flat yet?” Sally asked, picking up her drink.

Molly shook her head. “Not yet. I mean, John seems to spend a lot of time there, so Sherlock likes coming over to my flat. And I don’t mind.”

“Well, maybe you should see about going to his flat tonight,” Mary said.

“Maybe,” Molly said with a small smile. She tucked her hair behind her ear. “But even if we don’t, it will be nice to be able to be close to him. I like just snuggling up to him.”

“You really like him, don’t you?” Sally asked with a grin.

“I do,” she said with a nod. “I really, really do.”

“Well, I think you two are very well paired,” Mary said. “And I think he realizes it, too.”

“Yeah, I think so too,” Sally said. “He adores you, and obviously wants to make sure you stay safe. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he might actually love you.”

Molly blinked. She had thought, perhaps, she might be in love with him but she wasn’t sure he was in love with her. But if others were seeing it, if others were commenting on it, maybe there was something there. “Maybe,” she said, looking down. “It’d be nice.”

“Don’t put her on the spot, Sal,” Mary said. “Look, if he is, you’ll find out soon enough. I don’t think he’ll be able to keep it under wraps forever. He won’t be able to keep it secret. He won’t want to. Until then, enjoy what you have. You’re happy, and that’s what matters.” Their food arrived then and Mary looked at her plate. “Now then. What do we want to do with the rest of our afternoon?”

Molly grinned as the conversation shifted and they began to eat. Now that the dour mood of earlier had passed she hoped that they could move forward until whatever else was going to happen happened. At least if they were together they could get through things, she knew that much. She just hoped that their friendship could withstand whatever else was thrown at them in the near future.


	11. Chapter 11

Sherlock had been rather surprised by Molly asking to see where he lived, but he said John had said he’d be out for the evening, probably until late, so at least for a little while they could have the place to themselves. She was a bit nervous to see it, she realized; she knew an awful lot about him but knowing where he lived, knowing particulars about him meant he trusted her with more about himself, and that meant something. That meant they were getting more serious. 

They got out of the cab in front of a delicatessen called Speedy’s and then went to a blue door. “Do you actually eat there?” Molly asked as Sherlock unlocked the door, gesturing to the deli.

Sherlock nodded. “I know the owners well. I get my sandwiches and sides at a pretty hefty discount. They call it the ‘tenant rate’: anyone boarding with Mrs. Hudson gets their meals at a third of the menu price.”

Her eyes widened. “A third? That’s a pretty hefty discount.”

“Well, that’s only if you’re a _good_ tenant,” he said with a slight grin as he got the door unlocked and then opened it. “Make their lives hell and you have to pay full price, and then some. And not just here. Any place in the area. Word spreads. It’s that way with anyone who has lodgers. I get discounts at all the eateries in a three block radius.”

She chuckled. “Sounds fair to me. But that sounds like a good deal to everyone.”

“Well, there are a lot of people struggling to make ends meet around here. Not the business owners, but the tenants,” he said as they went inside. “In an effort to get us to spend our money in the neighborhood they offered us a deal. Most of us take them up on it. It works out pretty nicely for everyone.”

“Except now you spend most of your money in _my_ neighborhood,” she said with a grin.

He reached over for her once the door was shut. “Well, I do buy my breakfast in the area every morning, and usually I have a few dinners here,” he said quietly. “Though I could stand to have a few less dinners, and John could have a few more.”

She grinned and leaned in to kiss him. She had almost suggested he have a few less breakfasts, too, but it wasn’t as though they taught at the same university. It wasn’t as though she lived near where he worked. But in the back of her mind she thought perhaps it might be nice every once in a while not to fall asleep by herself, to wake up in his arms or snuggled against him or with her head on his chest. After a few minutes she pulled away. “You should show me around,” she said, letting her fingertips graze his cheek as she pulled her arms from around his neck.

“We could go to the sitting room. I suppose it’s my turn to offer you coffee,” he said, pulling away more. He offered her his hand and led the way to some stairs. They made their way up the stairs and went into a large room with black and white wallpaper. There was a yellow smiley face on the wall that was accented with bullet holes. She let go of his hand and walked around, examining it, and then looking around at all the different things in the room. It was definitely an eclectic mix of things, and she could hazard some very good guesses at what were Sherlock’s things and what were John’s.

Eventually she made her way into the kitchen and leaned against the worktop next to him. “I like it here,” she said with a smile. “It’s very you.”

“You haven’t even seen my bedroom yet,” he said with a grin.

“Well, I can see that after coffee,” she said with a smile, moving her hand on the worktop over to his to play with his fingers.

“So I suppose you want to stay for a while?” he asked, his tone a little more serious.

“Well, I have no plans for tomorrow, so I can stay out late tonight,” she said.

“Could you stay out…all…night?” he asked.

“Are you asking me to…?” she asked, turning just slightly red.

“Not unless you want to,” he said, looking down at their hands on the worktop. “I mean, I’ve thought about it, but I’m not sure we’re…”

“Oh, good,” she said with a sigh of relief. He looked up at her, seeing a smile on her face. “I do like you. Quite a bit. It’s just not…the right time, I suppose? But I would like to sleep next to you tonight. Maybe I’ll feel differently in the morning, I don’t know, but for right now, just sleeping next to you would be nice.”

He relaxed slightly. “I gather you’ve realized by now I have no experience in that arena,” he said.

“Well, I remember you said you could count the number of dates you’d been on on one hand and still have a finger left over on our first date so I assumed that was the case,” she said gently, moving away from the worktop and moving closer to him, and he moved to pull her closer to him. “I don’t have that much more experience than you. Just two partners and a handful of experiences, all of which were subpar. But we’ll go at whatever pace you see fit, all right?”

He nodded. “Thank you,” he said, leaning in towards her.

“You’re quite we—” She was cut off by the banging of the front door opening and the two of them jumped apart. Sherlock edged in front of her and went for the knife block, slowly edging out one of the larger knives. The front door slammed shut and there was some distinct sounds of laughter and snogging and she put her hand over his. “Bet you a tenner it’s John and Mary.”

A moment later the couple in question came into the room, not even noticing they had an audience, fully intent on trying to make it to the sofa. They didn’t quite make it, though, and Mary got backed into the wall. She reached for the hem of John’s jumper to pull it up when Sherlock cleared his throat. Both of them froze and Mary slowly moved her head around John and stared at Sherlock and Molly with wide eyes. “Oh my God!” she said, her voice sounding almost like a mouse’s squeak.

Molly shook her head, her eyes alight with amusement. “Oh, I want to hear all about this later,” she said.

“Wasn’t expecting you to be here, mate,” John said, turning around to look at them.

“As I do live here still it does happen on occasion,” Sherlock said. “It was also why I asked what your plans were for this evening.”

John opened his mouth for a moment. “Ooh,” he said. “Yeah. About that. The movie was a bit of a bore, and we _may_ have…err…”

“Gotten kicked out of the cinema for being a bit frisky?” Mary finished with a cheeky grin. Molly chuckled at that. “Well, I bet you and him have a hard time keeping _your_ hands off each other when you’re nice and close!”

Molly shook her head and then reached over for Sherlock’s hand. “I can see your bedroom some other time,” she said, dragging him out of the kitchen. “If you two need it there’s coffee brewing.”

“And just where are you going?” John asked.

“I imagine I’m being dragged back to Molly’s flat so you two can have the privacy to make as much of a ruckus as you want,” Sherlock said with a smirk as they walked by them.

“You aren’t going to let me live this down, are you?” Mary called after Molly as she went down the stair to the front door, Sherlock right behind her.

“Not a chance!” Molly called back with a laugh, getting her handbag off the table and then opening the door. She waited for Sherlock and then went to the curb and hailed them a cab. Once they were inside she moved closer to him. “Sorry you have to sleep in your clothes. I mean, unless you want to stop off somewhere and get some pyjamas or something. If you do, I suppose you can keep them at my flat.”

“Are you sure?” he asked. She nodded. “Then let’s go get me something more comfortable to sleep in.” He leaned forward and told the driver to take him to the nearest store that was still open and then looked over at Molly. “At least they’ll have some privacy.”

“Yes,” she said, straightening up a little and leaning in as she touched his face. “And so will we.” He grinned at that as he met her the rest of the way and kissed her, and she relaxed against him. The evening hadn’t turned out _quite_ the way they’d planned, but perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad after all.


	12. Chapter 12

Mary had had to work through lunch on Monday so she wasn’t able to tease her friend about their encounter in their boyfriend’s shared flat, but as she simply had her office hours after lunch she decided to treat herself a bit and go to Tom’s Kitchen at Somerset House for lunch and enjoy a good meal there. It had been a little while since she’d been there and she was always excited to see what they had to offer since the menu changed seasonally. She knew that Tom’s Kitchen Terrace would be closed this time of year but that was all right; perhaps she could convince Sherlock to go with her closer to Christmas and they could enjoy the skate lounge.

She took a cab and got a table there, seeing it was a bit crowded for the lunch time, but not too bad. Her next class wasn’t for two hours from now so she could enjoy a leisurely lunch if she chose. She was seated at the table, looking over the menu as she decided what to order when she heard a woman ask “Excuse me?” and she looked up to see the same woman who she had seen at The Delaunay during her brunch with Sally and Mary on Saturday. “I’m so sorry. I just…they’re getting crowded and I was given a rather strange look when I said I’d be dining alone, and then I saw you. Are you waiting for someone?”

Molly shook her head. “By all means, feel free to join me,” she said with a smile. “Irene, right?”

Irene nodded. “I didn’t catch your name, though.”

“I’m Molly,” she said, extending her hand. “Molly Hooper.”

“Charmed,” Irene said with a smile, shaking her hand. “I’m rather glad to see a familiar face. I’ve been away for a time, traveling for business, and I’m having to reacquaint myself. I’m afraid most of my friends have moved on in their lives, as I suppose they do.”

“Ah,” Molly said. “Where were you traveling?”

“Mostly across Europe, though I did spend a significant amount of time in New York City and Washington DC as well,” Irene said. “It was quite interesting. I got to go to a lot of very interesting places.”

“What did you do, if I might ask?” Molly asked.

“I’m a consultant, of sorts,” Irene said. “I offer specialized services for people who need to obtain information. It’s nice to take a breather, though. I missed home.” She glanced at the menu. “You’re a professor at the university, correct? I think I inferred that much from what I heard about the gunman on the campus.”

Molly nodded. “Yes. I teach classes on forensic pathology.”

“That must be a fascinating field,” Irene said, leaning forward. “Do you ever assist the police?”

“On occasion. I usually only look over autopsies already done, double checking the work. It’s not often I actually do the autopsies myself, or redo them,” she said. “I enjoy doing it, though. My father was part of Scotland Yard, so it’s my way of upholding family tradition, I suppose.”

“You’re a much braver soul than I am,” Irene said with a chuckle. “Get me near a dead body and I’d probably faint.” She went back to studying the menu. “And your friend said your boyfriend was with you?”

“Yes,” Molly said. “He’s a professor at another university, teaching biochemistry.” She wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to go into more details than that.

“That must make for interesting conversations sometimes,” Irene said.

“Sometimes,” Molly replied.

Irene nodded but didn’t continue the conversation at that point, and soon a waiter came to take their orders. Irene ordered the hand dived scallops and the truffle pappardelle while Molly got truffled macaroni cheese and lamb rump. Molly forwent the drinks but Irene had a 2010 bottle of Rully, Clos des Mollespieres brought to the table. Molly was definitely impressed by that. Irene smiled at her. “I don’t think one small sip will hurt you, if you want a taste,” she said.

“Maybe,” Molly said with a grin. “But a small sip. I still have a class today.”

“You take your classes very seriously, don’t you?” Irene asked.

Molly nodded. “I love teaching. I love my job. I feel very fulfilled being a professor. I enjoy it very much.” She picked up the glass of water she had. “I mean, I could be a specialist registrar if I wanted, but…I’d rather teach.”

“Well, then here’s to teaching,” Irene said, picking up her glass and raising it.

“To teaching,” she said in response, clinking her glass against Irene’s. She took a sip of her water as the conversation moved to other topics, and they began to chat, getting to learn more about each other. When the food came they both ate as they talked. Molly had a small sip of the wine, maybe a quarter of the glass, just enough to appreciate the quality of it. She had enough room left for dessert, and opted to try the milk chocolate & caramel tart, which was every bit as decadent as she had thought it would be. Irene offered to pay for both of their meals together but Molly insisted they have separate cheques, but she didn’t turn down an invitation to do lunch again later in the week as Irene’s treat.

She made her way back to the college and went through the rest of her classes before gathering up her things and going home. Tonight was going to be a night of a ready to eat meal, going through papers and crap telly. Or at least that had been the plan before she got to her flat and saw Sherlock waiting outside, sacks of takeaway in hand. She gave him a soft kiss before unlocking the door. “John took over the flat again?” she asked as she let them in.

“Something about how I’m never at the flat anymore and how he’d planned for Mary to come over and didn’t he tell me that?” Sherlock said wryly, following her in.

“Well, I have papers to grade tonight, so I can’t afford to get _too_ distracted. I had lunch with a new friend today so I didn’t spend as much time in my office before classes working as I should have,” she said.

“Well, I have grading to do as well, so it works out,” he said, bringing the food into her kitchen. 

“What did you get for us to eat?” she asked after she set her things on her table.

“Persian food,” he said. “There’s a restaurant near my home that I like to go to. I didn’t know what you might like so I got my favorites and then I got a bit of everything and you can pick and choose what you like most. This is one of those times when my discount comes in handy.”

She laughed. “I suppose it is,” she said. She pulled down plates and then he told her what each item was, and she took some of what sounded appealing while he served up his own food. Once he got them cutlery to eat it with they took everything to the table and began to eat and work at the same time, sinking into a very comfortable silence for a while. She wasn’t sure how long had passed when she looked up and saw that he had at some point slipped on a pair of reading spectacles. “You should wear those more often.”

“Pardon?” he asked, looking up and then pushing the spectacles up his nose.

“The spectacles. You should wear them more often. I like them on your face.”

He grinned slightly as he leaned back in his seat. “Most people think I look too scholarly in them.”

“Well,” she said, getting out of her seat and going around to him, “I think you look quite dashing. Very handsome.”

He pushed his seat back and pulled her onto his lap. “You do, do you?”

She nodded. “I do.”

“Then perhaps I’ll wear them around you,” he said, settling his arms around her waist. “If that would make you happy.”

“It would make me very happy,” she said, leaning in. “Because I have a thing for an attractive man in spectacles.”

“I’m pleased to know that,” he murmured before he kissed her. She had the feeling that the grading of papers might get delayed, perhaps until the next day, but it would be worth it if it meant she got to snog Sherlock for a while. Her feelings for him were growing stronger and stronger every day, growing more and more intense, more and more into something close to love, if they weren’t love already, and she needed to figure out how she felt and get a better idea of how he felt about her sooner rather than later before something happened and they made it to the point of no return.


	13. Chapter 13

Irene had called Molly Wednesday afternoon to invite her to lunch at Indigo Restaurant the next afternoon. Molly had always wanted to eat there and had agreed almost immediately. She had a class at two thirty, and lunch at the restaurant went from noon the quarter to three, so Irene had made the reservation for half past noon with the option to push it earlier if she needed to. It was agreed noon would be better and so Molly would meet her there.

She made it a point to dress a bit more nicely than she already did, but not so nicely she would stand out for the group date planned between her and her friends at The Four Quarters later that evening. When she got to Indigo Restaurant she gave Irene’s name and was taken to a table to see the woman waiting there, smiling up at her when she approached. “Molly,” she said with a warm smile. “You look lovely.”

“Thank you,” Molly said with a smile of her own. She sat down in the chair across from her and looked at the menu. So much of it looked very appetizing, especially being able to build her own salad. “I’m glad you invited me to lunch. It was going to be another day of eating in my office otherwise. My friend I normally eat with was occupied with other things.”

“The one who was involved with the gunman?” Irene asked.

Molly shook her head. “My friend Mary. We’ve been friends for many years. We went to university together, and then started working at the university at roughly the same time. She got her post first, and then when she found out about the opening in my department she told me about it and then put in a good word for me. We’ve been there…eight years now, give or take?”

Irene looked impressed. “And you enjoy your post?”

Molly nodded. “I do, very much. I like teaching a lot more than I think I would enjoy being a specialist registrar. And I like to think I’m quite good at it.”

“I’m sure you are,” Irene said with a smile. “And you said your boyfriend is also a professor? What university does he teach at?

“University College London,” she said with a small smile. “Yes, I do realize we teach at rival universities, but we don’t let that bother us.”

Irene chuckled softly. “You must really care for him. I’m sure if other professors who cared more about the rivalry were to know they’d be a bit more upset.”

“Oh, no doubt,” Molly said with a laugh. She took a sip of the water that was at her place setting. “He doesn’t care about the rivalry, though. He simply cares about teaching his classes and the subject he’s teaching.”

“Ah. Is he an absent minded professor type?” Irene asked.

Molly shook his head. “Not really? A little, maybe, but not much. He just seems…normal. I mean, a little socially awkward, or at least he _was_ , but not much. But I care for him regardless.”

“How much do you care for him?” Irene asked, tilting her head slightly.

“Quite a bit,” she said, not wanting to say more than that. With Mary and Sally she would say more, but that was all she felt comfortable saying to Irene. She was saved by having to say any more by the waiter coming to take their orders. Both women decided to create their own salad for a starter, with Irene having the grilled tiger prawns, cucumber, cherry tomatoes, pine nuts and soy and ginger dressing and Molly having the grilled chicken, avocado, cherry tomato, croutons & truffle dressing, and then Irene decided to have the Rhug Estate organic lamb rump with samphire, smoked aubergine, capers and anchovy while Molly had the breast of pheasant with celeriac, watercress and port jus. 

When the waiter left Irene picked up her glass of water and took a sip of it. “I am definitely more interested in getting to know you, and I’m sure you’re more interested in getting to know me,” she said with a smile. “So what would you like to know?”

Molly thought for a moment. “Well…” she said, then began to ask questions. Soon it began that she and Irene went back and forth, with them asking questions of each other. She noticed that the questions Irene asked tended to veer towards her relationship with Sherlock, and towards her career, and it made her feel just a tad uneasy, but she brushed it aside. By the time they got to the dessert and she enjoyed her Amedei chocolate mousse with honeycomb and almond milk ice cream she’d almost forgotten about it entirely.

She gave Irene a fond enough farewell and then made her way back to the college to resume her classes for the day, and then when they were done she gathered her things and went to Mary’s office to meet up with her and Sally to head to The Four Quarters. They’d offered to wait for Greg but he said he was going to catch up on some work and to go on without him. Mary looked Molly up and down and grinned when she got there. “Trying to impress Sherlock?” she asked.

Molly shook her head. “I had lunch at Indigo Restaurant today with a friend.”

Mary feigned shock. “You have friends who aren’t us? The nerve.”

“Well, she’s not really a friend. Maybe. I’m not sure,” Molly said. 

Sally frowned. “That sounds a bit odd.”

Molly waved her hand slightly. “It’s not important. I just want to concentrate on having a good evening tonight.”

“Well, if you like arcade games, I think you will. It’s a bar that’s got all sorts of them there,” Mary said. “It’s what John gets for letting me suggest the place this week.”

“This was your idea?” Sally asked with a grin.

Mary nodded. “I used to love arcade games. I’ll kick everybody’s arse at ‘Street Fighter II,’ I promise.”

“I’m a ‘Pac Man’ woman myself,” Molly said with a smile. “I always used to beat my dad at that game. It’ll be nice to play it again.” She shifted her hold on her handbag. “So! Shall we go?”

The other two women nodded, and then the three of them left Mary’s office and went to go get into a cab to go to the bar. They got out and saw John and Sherlock waiting outside. When they went inside Molly was delighted by what she saw and realized it was going to be a rather fun evening. They drifted around, enjoying the different arcade games and the different craft beers that were offered, having a good time. Eventually Greg joined them, and the evening got even better.

After a little while they all managed to get sitting down near each other and were chatting about how their days had gone. Mary pointed her beer at Molly. “Who did you end up having lunch with today?”

“Irene Adler,” she said, leaning into Sherlock slightly.

Mary made a slight face. “The woman who approached us at brunch?” she asked.

“She ran into me at Tom’s Kitchen on Monday when they were packed and we shared a table and had a pleasant conversation and then she invited me to lunch today,” Molly said before taking a sip of her beer. “Today’s conversation was pleasant enough but it seemed…off.”

Sherlock tightened his hold on her shoulders slightly. “I wouldn’t put it past her to be planted by Moriarty,” he said.

“You think?” Molly asked, turning to face him.

He nodded. “Moriarty hasn’t dealt with me since university. He’d need more information on me. What better way of getting it than having someone get friendly with my girlfriend?”

“And I told her about you,” she said with a groan.

“You didn’t know,” John pointed out. “I mean, if that’s what this is, you didn’t know she was fishing for information.”

“But I did,” she said quietly. “She literally told me on Monday. She said she got information for people.” She shut her eyes and hung her head. “How could I have been so _stupid_?”

Sherlock moved his head slightly and pressed a kiss in her hair. “As John said, you didn’t know. He plays games,” he said.

“Suppose you play them back,” John said thoughtfully.

“Hmm?” Sherlock asked, turning to his friend.

“Well, Molly, what did you tell her about Sherlock?” John asked.

“Not a whole lot,” she said, thinking a moment. “I mean, I told her more about me than him, and even then…I don’t know. It had made me uneasy, so I held back some.”

“I heard somewhere, I think, that there’s a mix about how to tell a good lie. Two parts truth to one part lie, I think?” he said, tilting his head slightly. “You’ve told the two parts truth already. Now do the one part lie. Feed Irene information that isn’t true to see if it gets back to Moriarty. Then you’ll know if she’s working for him. And if she’s not, apologize later.”

“That’s actually quite brilliant,” Sally said. “And it’s a way to mess with his head if he’s trying to get revenge on you, Sherlock. You tell him something that’s blatantly untrue and if he uses it for revenge it could backfire on him.”

Sherlock looked over at Molly. “Would you be willing to do this, Molly? Irene thinks she has her claws in you. It’s up to you to pull this off.”

Molly nodded. “Yes, I suppose.”

“All right,” he said, pulling her a bit closer. She nestled against him and had another sip of her beer. She didn’t like this, not entirely, but there really wasn’t any other choice. If this was all part of what Sherlock thought it was, of Moriarty playing head games with them, then they had a chance to fight back, and they should take it, and if she was the only one who could give them an advantage? Then she would help give them the advantage…even if she wasn’t entirely sure she could do it.


	14. Chapter 14

Molly felt a sense of guilt as the driver arrived at her flat. She’d spent the day out and about with Irene, going to brunch at May The Fifteenth and then having a spa day at Anesis Salon, Spa and Clinic in Clapham. Irene had said to splurge and when she had tried to demure, say no, it was all right Irene had insisted and so she had more treatments than she could imagine: an Aenea Tranquil Massage and a facial; waxing, brow tidying and a spray tan; a manicure and pedicure; hair colouring and a cut and blow dry; and even having her make-up done. She looked fantastic by the time she was done and Irene said it would be a shame if she didn’t convince her boyfriend to take her out somewhere tonight. She even said she’d make a reservation for the two of them and leave an open tab at Hakkasan Mayfair.

She’d called Sherlock to ask him, and he’d said he’d meet her at her flat. She supposed he didn’t want Irene to know where he lived if she was indeed reporting to Moriarty. Not that Moriarty couldn’t find out easily enough, she thought, but if it made it harder she supposed that was fine. But there was a feeling in her stomach that she shouldn’t be doing this. If Irene _wasn’t_ working for Jim, if she _was_ being genuine, that she was being horrible in lying to her and leading her on. It had been going on for three weeks now where she had been perpetuating the bits of mixing truths and lies to feed to her and it was eating her up inside.

The sooner something happened to put an end to this game, the better.

She had thought she would need to get out, but Sherlock was outside her building, waiting. She was glad Irene had talked her into doing a bit of shopping for a new dress. She had looked nice when she left in the morning, putting a bit of effort into her outfit, but the white vintage A-line dress with the red and black rose print had been stunning, especially with her now ginger hair. She wanted him to see her in the dress, so she got out of the car to kiss him in welcome. His eyes widened when he saw her before he kissed her softly. “You look exquisite,” he said when he pulled away.

“Thank you,” she said, blushing. She gestured to the car. “Not sure if that’s the best place to talk.”

“No, it’s not,” he said, staying close to her. “I would assume the driver will be reporting to Irene. We might be able to talk more at the restaurant but we should still be careful what we say.” She nodded as he opened the door and they got back inside. She smoothed her skirt around her legs and settled into the seat as Sherlock got comfortable. “Did you have a good day?”

She nodded. “Very relaxing,” she said. “The spa was very nice, and the company was as well. It was all very nice.”

“I’m glad,” he said. He studied her and reached over for her hand, leaning in and kissing her cheek. “We don’t need to talk about it,” he murmured with his lips near her ear.

“Really?” she said, her voice quiet.

“Yes. If it won’t smear your make-up, I could kiss you for a bit,” he said.

“It won’t,” she said as she turned to face him, reaching over to touch his face before leaning in and kissing him softly. He moved his hand to her waist and pulled her closer, and she relaxed into the kiss. For a few moments she managed to forget about everything, about her worries with Irene and all that. She just relaxed into his embrace and his kisses and focused on that. When the car came to a complete stop, they pulled apart. “I don’t think we were too risqué.”

“No,” he said. “Which is good, in case we were being recorded.”

That put a damper on her good mood. “Yes, I suppose.” They straightened their clothes and made themselves presentable and then got out of the car and made their way into the restaurant. When they were greeted and Molly gave her name they were told they could order anything they wanted on the menu unless it was something that needed twenty four hour notice, no price limit and then she felt even more guilty. She didn’t want to take advantage but this was such an exquisite restaurant and she’d _always_ wanted to eat here.

Sherlock looked at her closely as they were led to their table, a more secluded one, which she was thankful for. “You’re uneasy,” he said, leaning in towards her.

“I just feel so guilty,” she replied. “The nice trip to the spa, this…I feel like I’m using her.”

“Is she asking you overly personal questions about yourself and about us, about me?” he asked.

“Sometimes,” she said.

“Then she’s trying to get information out of you,” he said. “You shouldn’t feel guilty.” He waited for her chair to be pulled out for her and for her to sit down, and then he sat down as well before reaching over for her hand. “You don’t have to do this, you know. It’s a good idea, but if it makes you uncomfortable, break off contact with Miss Adler. You don’t have to tell her the truth; you can say that your commitments between work and Scotland Yard and your relationship with me are becoming overwhelming. I will gladly take up more of your spare time. It would be my privilege.”

Despite the situation that brought a smile to her face. “You will?” she asked.

He nodded. “I can spend more nights with you. While we haven’t done much, I’ve found I get a better night’s sleep when I’m by your side. And though I need to wake up earlier to start my day, I enjoy sharing a morning routine with you.” He paused. “Not every morning. I mean, I’m not saying I should move in with you.”

“If you wanted to, though, I wouldn’t mind,” she said quietly. “I think John thinks he has the run of your flat these days.”

He gave her a small grin. “He rather thinks he does, doesn’t he?”

She nodded, curling her fingers around his. “It’s something to think about, at least. I mean, I know we haven’t been together long but it doesn’t really feel as if we’re rushing things too much. So we can consider it, at least.”

“All right. I’ll consider it.” He brought his hands to her lips and kissed the back of her hand. “If you want to end this game of truths and lies with Irene, put the kibosh on it starting tomorrow. Tonight, enjoy her largesse and take advantage of this evening with me. I can sometimes take you on nice dates but probably nothing as nice as this.” He let go of her hand and picked up the menu. “We should try the Peking duck with Beluga caviar.”

“Do you even _like_ caviar?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

He made a face, tilting his head. “No, but it is one of the most expensive things on the menu,” he said.

She shook her head, though she grinned a bit. “Let’s order a few different things we like, eat a little, and take the rest home, all right?”

“That sounds like a better plan,” he conceded, perusing the menu more. She looked down at the menu, feeling a bit better. The fact he didn’t want her to draw out the plan that she was feeling uncomfortable with was good. It meant he really cared about her and how she felt. That might be why she…loved him. Oh, yes, she loved him, she did. She wouldn’t have suggested him moving in if she hadn’t.

Now she just wondered if he felt the same towards her.


	15. Chapter 15

The day after their evening out, Molly began the process of distancing herself from Irene. It was easier to do than she’d anticipated; Barts had started to really realize just how much of a liability Dr. Carpenter was so she was being asked to go over more and more of his autopsies. She had the feeling that soon enough she might be asked to do it on a more permanent basis, and she wasn’t _quite_ sure how she felt about that. She enjoyed her position teaching more than she thought she would ever enjoy the job of a specialist registrar, though she did enjoy the work. Doing it on an occasional basis as a favour was one thing. Doing it as a _career_ was quite another. But the victims did deserve someone more competent than Dr. Carpenter. Perhaps if it was on a temporary basis, she might consider it while they looked for a suitable replacement for him. She could take a sabbatical for a term or two, possibly. She didn’t think the president of the university would mind that.

It was nearly three weeks later and she was finishing gathering her things to begin the trek to Barts to do an autopsy since Dr. Carpenter had “fallen ill” for the third day in a row and this was one that couldn’t be put off until another person came on shift. Her teaching assistant could handle the class, she knew that, and she was making sure everything was in order for her so she wasn’t at a loss in case the students threw any curve-balls at her. She shouldn’t be, though; she was a graduate student who was one of the best that Molly had ever met and she would be either an excellent pathologist, researcher or teacher in her own right, depending on which direction she went towards when she finished her schooling. She was interrupted by a knock on the door and looked up when the student in question came in. “Yes, Rosalie?”

“Just wanted to see if your notes were ready,” Rosalie Simmons asked, a warm smile on her face.

Molly nodded, pulling out a folder and handing it to her, taking note of a folded piece of paper in her hand. “Is that for me?”

Rosalie nodded. “It was on your board,” she said, handing it over. She opened the folder and flipped through it briefly. “This shouldn’t be a problem.” Molly opened the note and froze as she read it, and then Rosalie looked up and set the folder on Molly’s desk. “Doctor Hooper? Are you all right?”

“Yes,” she said, crumpling the note in her fist slightly. “Ye...yes, I’m fine.” Damn it all, her voice was shaky. She hoped it wasn’t noticeable to Rosalie. “It’s just a prank, that’s all.”

“Should I call security?” she asked, sounding concerned.

Molly shook her head. “No. It’s of a personal matter. Harmless, really.” She gestured to the folder. “Go teach the class, but don’t be too good or they may try and give you my position when you’re done with your thesis.”

Rosalie gave her a grin and a shake of her head. “I need a doctorate first, ma’am,” she said. Molly relaxed a bit as it appeared Rosalie didn’t seem concerned anymore. She picked up the folder and then pulled her bag on her shoulder around to stick the file in it. “I’ll make sure the students understand the material well enough you can spring a test on them and they’ll all pass with flying colours.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” Molly said, giving her a small smile. Rosalie gave her a small wave and then turned and left the room, her brunette ponytail bobbing as she walked and when the office door shut behind her Molly sank into her office chair, uncrumpling the note in her fist and opening it again. She stared at the neat, precise writing on the folded piece of stationary. Plain white, of course, with very little decoration, just a simple black border with some blocks in the corners.

_You may have tried to keep mum but I’m afraid you did blurt out a bit too much, Dr. Hooper. I know your secrets now. I won’t hesitate to use them against you. M_

She shut her eyes for a moment. In one way, she knew the plan had worked. The juicy “secrets” had all been lies, of course, but if James Moriarty was planning to blackmail her with them he was going to want to get proof, and when he found out there was none...well, couldn’t he get dangerous? Sherlock had not gone into exactly what had happened in his college years, and she felt that now that she had been threatened she had a right to know.

She opened her eyes again and reached into her handbag for her mobile, pulling up his contact as soon as she turned it on. Once it started dialing she put it to her ear. He picked up on the third ring. “Molly?”

“I got a note saying he was going to blackmail me,” Molly said.

“Who? Moriarty?” Sherlock said.

“Yes,” she said. “There was a note outside my door that my TA brought in that said, and I quote, ‘ You may have tried to keep mum but I’m afraid you did blurt out a bit too much, Dr. Hooper. I know your secrets now. I won’t hesitate to use them against you. M.’” She tossed the note aside. “Not everything I told Irene was lies. We didn’t start the ‘two truths to one lie’ mixture right away. What if some of what I told her led to some horrible secret I didn’t know about?”

“I will take care of it,” he said.

“Fine. But you’re also going to tell me what happened in college,” she replied. “You owe me that much.”

He was quiet for a moment. “I suppose I do,” he said. “Very well. Tonight, I can bring supper?”

She shook her head, even though he couldn’t see it. “No. I’m about to go to Barts to do an autopsy. I don’t know how late I’ll be. Since I gave you a key to my flat, go there when you’re done with your classes and I’ll meet you when I’m finished. I’ll bring something from Pret A Manger, all right?”

“Very well.” There was another pause on his end. “I will not let him harm you, Molly. I won’t let him sully your reputation or cause you physical harm, I swear.”

“I know you’ll try very hard,” she said. “But I don’t think you can prevent everything he can do. There’s no way anyone can do that.”

“I...have my ways,” he said. “I’ll start looking into it tonight.”

She widened her eyes. “Sherlock, don’t do anything that will get you into trouble!” she said.

“It won’t be _that_ kind of trouble,” he said. “I’ll just owe someone some favours who will lord it over me and call them in at inconvenient times and all that. Though...perhaps if he’s checked you out already, since I’m assuming he approves of you since he hasn’t paid you a visit to dissuade you from associating with me, he might not be too much of an arse about things.”

“Who are you talking about?” she asked, slightly confused.

“My older brother. He is a highly influential businessman, runs a consulting firm in the security field. He’s a pain in the arse, but he’s got his fingers in a lot of pies. He’ll do more to make sure you’re protected, both physically and reputation wise, than I would ever be able to. I’ll beg if I have to, but I _assume_ he likes you as he hasn’t paid you a visit or had any of his cronies do so yet.”

“I...see,” she said slowly.

“You’ll be safe, I swear,” he said quietly. “I will not allow Moriarty or anyone to harm you. You mean too much to me. You’re too important to me.”

Despite the seriousness of the situation she felt a smile form on her face. “You’re important to me too, Sherlock,” she said. Then she glanced at the clock on her office wall and her eyes widened. “I have to go. But...tonight?”

“Yes, tonight. I’ll see you at home.” He paused. “ _Your_ home, I mean. Good-bye, Molly.”

“Bye, Sherlock.” She hung up and then quickly finished gathering her things, giving the note one last glance. She didn’t want to think about it, about the implications, but it _was_ a threat and she should be on her guard. She hated living that way, but that was the situation she had gotten herself into and...well, that was her life now. The sooner this situation was dealt with, however it was _going_ to be dealt with, the better she would feel.


	16. Chapter 16

Molly had just barely stepped foot on campus the Monday after Sherlock had told her everything when Mary came over to her, her face concerned. “He knows,” Mary said.

“Who knows what?” Molly asked, her brow furrowing.

“Carmichael. He knows Sherlock teaches at University College London, just like he knows John teaches there too. He’s absolutely livid. I already had a talking to, but because I’m just a glorified secretary I don’t matter much. But you...you’re a highly respected professor. You’re ‘fraternizing with the enemy,’ as far as he’s concerned.”

Molly felt her blood begin to boil. “My personal life and who I choose to have romantic entanglements with is none of his concern,” she said.

“He’ll _make_ it his concern,” Mary said quietly. “Molly, he can put a cap on your funding, he can make you jump through impossible hoops for approval for projects, he can make it so you can’t liaise with Scotland Yard anymore...”

Her eyes widened and she sank down on the nearest bench. “How did he find out?” she asked, looking up at Mary.

Mary sat down next to her and took Molly’s hands in hers. “An anonymous note in the morning’s post,” she said. “It looked official so I paid it no mind, but then he bellowed for me and nearly ripped my head off. If I didn’t need this position so much I’d have walked out right then. Carmichael’s always been an arse, especially since the scandal, but I _need_ this post. And so do you.”

Molly shut her eyes. If she didn’t know better, she was falling in love with Sherlock. She didn’t want to have to choose between the career she loved that she had worked so hard for and him. “Does he want to see me?”

“Yeah,” Mary said. “As soon as possible. I think he’s going to read you the riot act and tell you to end your relationship with Sherlock if you want any chance of having an easy time here at the university.”

Her eyes flew open at that. “There’s no way in bloody _hell_ he’s going to sit there and _demand_ I end my relationship with a man I care for greatly just to keep up a piddly school rivalry.”

Mary’s eyes lit up. “Oh, I’d _hoped_ you’d say that,” she said, letting go of Molly’s hands and reaching into her coat pocket and pulling out a slim tape recorder. “Use this. Catch him on tape. And then blackmail the living hell out of him.”

“Are you sure?” Molly asked.

“He’s a smarmy arse,” Mary said, waving her hand. “He needs to be ejected out of this university, to be honest. And this may just be the way to do it. If he thinks he can keep his position after the cock-up of the scandal and then trying to tell you to end a relationship over a university rivalry, he’s sorely mistaken, because that’s an abuse of power. That’s overstepping bounds. And I may know people who can make sure he loses his nice, cushy pension if he tries to enforce you losing your position if you release this tape, among other things.”

“You have friends?” Molly asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Of a dubious sort,” Mary said evasively. “But tape the entire conversation. It will cover your arse.” She leaned over and hugged Molly, who embraced her back. “Go talk to him, and hold your ground. If nothing else, those of us who care about you have your back.”

Molly nodded and got up off the bench, heading towards Carmichael’s office, gripping the tape recorder in the pocket of her coat tightly. She was livid but trying so hard to keep a calm facade about her to not give off that she had the tape recorder. If he thought that he could jeopardize her funding or her position over who she chose to date he was _sorely_ mistaken.

And worst of all, she knew it was so much more than just a simple power play in office politics. She knew this was M’s way of playing with her. Toying with her and toying with Sherlock because of what had happened in college. Sherlock had told her, and she let her mind drift back to that conversation as she continued to Carmichael’s office, a trip that felt much like walking to the executioner more than anything else.

_Sherlock had sat on her sofa, his elbows on his thighs and his hands clasped together. She hadn’t been sure whether to touch him or not, so she kept her hands to herself. He was silent for a long moment once the food was done, and she simply waited for him to speak. Finally, he spoke. “In university, I shared a flat with three other blokes. Victor Trevor, Sebastian Moran and James Moriarty. At first, we all got along fairly well. I kept to myself for the most part at the beginning, but Victor coaxed me out of my shell and we became good friends. He was, in essence, the first real friend I ever had.”_

_Her eyes had widened slightly at that. “You didn’t have any friends until university?” she’d asked._

_He’d nodded. “My parents discouraged me from making friends as they believed they were a distraction. My brother drilled the mantra ‘caring is a disadvantage’ in my head from a young age. I was taught that people were at best acquaintances and at worst tools to be used. It was not a...pleasant childhood.” He had been quiet for a long moment at that and she’d decided fuck all, he needed comfort, and so she reached over and grasped his arm lightly. He unclasped his hands and moved his arm, shrugging her hand off, and for a moment she had been hurt until he grasped her hand with both of his. “Victor showed me that my family was wrong, and we became close. I knew...I knew he fancied me, though I did not feel the same way towards him, and after a time he accepted it, and we simply put it aside and became good friends. In point of fact, I was the one who introduced him to his boyfriend.”_

_“And things were good for a time?” she’d asked._

_“For a time,” he’d agreed with another nod. “What Victor and I didn’t know was that Sebastian and James were into illegal activities. Most were of little to no consequence. Bookmaking, mostly, and the occasional arranging of services of a sexual nature to students who were willing to pay for it for other people who were willing to offer the services. But then they got involved in drugs and got over their heads. I was out of the flat the day their associate in that endeavour paid a visit. They were too. Victor...was not so lucky.”_

_“Oh God,” she’d said, her eyes widening._

_“He was beaten to nearly an inch of his life,” Sherlock said quietly, looking down at their hands. “As a warning to James and Sebastian. His life was never the same. His life is not horrible, thankfully. The boyfriend I introduced him to stayed by his side and they are very happy together, but there was physical damage that was irreparable, mental scars that have never fully healed. And James and Sebastian never fully paid for it, not by the standards they should have. Not by the standards I wanted them to. So I had tried to ruin them as much as I could, and James has vowed to ruin me in return. He’s been unsuccessful so far, but apparently, that may change.”_

_She had put her other hand on his and squeezed as tightly as he could. “I don’t care what he does, Sherlock. What happened to your friend is deplorable and all the blame lies at their feet. Whatever he tries to do to you and to me we’ll fight him. We’ll fight back and we’ll fix any messes he causes, all right?” She pulled her hands away and then embraced him, and after a moment he put his arms around her, holding her tightly. “We’ll deal with him together, I promise.”_

As the memory faded and she approached Carmichael’s door, her resolve was renewed once more. She would go to Hell and back for Sherlock, and if this ploy went belly up and she lost the position she’d worked hard for...so be it. There were other things she could do. She could make her way in other places, in other positions at other schools, even if it wasn’t at the university level. She wasn’t about to let James Moriarty get the last laugh, so to speak. She put her hand on the knob and twisted it open, entering it without a knock first. Carmichael looked up and sputtered. “Dr. Hooper,” he said as she clicked the record button on the tape recorder. “You have some nerve.”

“I was told you wished to speak to me,” she said. “As I have class in less than a half hour, I thought it might be best to speak sooner rather than later.”

He gave her a mild glare for a moment and then tore his gaze away to pick up a note on the desk. “It has come to my attention that you are dating a professor from University College London,” he said.

She nodded “I am,” she said. “His name is Sherlock Holmes.”

Carmichael looked at her. “You are to terminate your relationship with him immediately, or else.”

“Or else what?” she asked, being careful not to act too upset.

“Or else you may find funding for your department in jeopardy,” he said, his voice rather snide. “Your agreement with Scotland Yard to conduct autopsies as a consultant may be revoked. You may find yourself without a position to return to next term.”

“And you’re issuing this ultimatum simply because he’s a professor at our university’s rival?” she asked, tilting her head.

“It’s bad for morale,” he replied.

“Is there anything in my contract that gives you the right to police my personal life? Is there anything that gives you the right to dictate the employers of my paramours?” she asked.

“No, but--” he began, but she held up her hand.

“Would you be having the same conversation with me if I was a man dating a female professor at University College London? Or married to an employee there?” she asked.

“That’s absurd!” he sputtered.

“You’ve had this conversation with two female employees today, but have you had this conversation with Professor Albert Johnson, who is married to a secretary at University College London?” she asked. “It’s been common knowledge that they’ve been married for ten years and she’s been employed there for seven because _you_ wouldn’t employ her here.”

“I don’t see how that’s relevant,” he snapped.

She moved forward and planted her hands on his desk. “I think it’s perfectly relevant if I want to bring forward a sexual harassment complaint,” she said. “And I’m sure I can get other people to jump on the bandwagon.”

He sneered at her. “You have no proof.”

She pulled the tape recorder out of her pocket. “I have all the proof I need,” she replied.

He blanched. “You wouldn’t.”

“Brian, I absolutely would. Good day,” she said, turning on heel.

“Dr. Hooper!” he called out. “Dr. Hooper! Molly!” She paid him no heed, opening the door and shutting it behind her. She caught Mary’s eye as she sat at her desk and grinned at her friend. Mary grinned back and then Molly made her way out of the office. Moriarty was going to have to try _much_ harder to ruin her life than this. Let him, she thought to herself. She’d be ready.


	17. Chapter 17

Carmichael was indeed an arse about the entire affair, beginning to put pressure towards Scotland Yard to end their agreement to use Molly as a consultant, and that was when Mary’s friends used the taped conversation and smeared his name all over. With that conversation, there was no way he could remain at his post and within days he announced his resignation. Molly knew her life was going to be hell for a while, and when she came back to the university for her first class the Monday after his resignation was announced the board on her door was littered with notes. Some were quite hurtful, from students as well as colleagues she had thought were friends, but many were also encouraging, and she was thankful for those.

One in particular, though, stood out from the rest. It was in an envelope embossed with a gold M, and she plucked that one off with a nervous hand and waited until the last to open it. When she did, a feeling in the pit of her stomach that she had made a rather wrong move settled there and got worse as she scanned the short note. _Bad move, Dr. Hooper,_ it read. _You should have just done as Carmichael demanded and ended your liaison with Holmes. Because I know what you said was truth and what was lies, and the truth will come out, whether you want it to or not._

Her hands were shaking as she dropped the note on her desk and she tried to think back to everything she had told Irene prior to them realizing that she worked for Moriarty. Was there anything she had told the woman that could be used against her in an ugly way? Anything that could be used to harm her? Or Sherlock? Or any of her friends? Could any of the lies be twisted in a way to hurt them? Any of the truths?

She knew Sherlock was in the middle of teaching a class right now but she pulled out her mobile and sent him a text anyway. _Need to speak urgently. M left me a note. Not good._ She set her mobile on the desk and leaned back in her chair, surprised when seconds later her mobile rang and it was Sherlock. “Aren’t you in class?” she asked.

“They’re taking an exam,” he said. “He sent a note?”

“Yes,” she said, leaning back into her seat, resisting the urge to curl up into herself. “He said he knows what was lies and what was truth, and the truth will come out, whether I want it to or not, all because I didn’t end my relationship with you.”

She could hear the sound of a muted impact on his end, as though he had punched a wall or something. “Bastard,” he muttered. “Try and recall everything you told that woman before we realized she was his mole. What could she possibly use against you?”

“That’s just it, Sherlock. I don’t know. We talked about so many different things.” She ran her hand across one of her eyes after she shut them, trying to calm herself to no avail. “I don’t give two shits what he does to my reputation, to be quite honest. Being involved in this scandal with Carmichael is already going to sour my name, I know that much. Especially if the rather hateful notes from my colleagues that were on my door are any indication. It may be best if I find myself a new position elsewhere next term.”

“I’m sorry, Molly,” Sherlock said quietly.

“Sherlock, it’s _his_ doing, not yours,” she replied with a sigh. “I love you and I won’t give you up because some sociopath with an ax to grind decides to make my professional and personal life a living hell. You mean too much to me for that.”

There was a long pause on his end, so long she almost spoke to ask if he was still there, but then he asked, “Do you mean that?”

“Did I mean what?” she asked, furrowing her brow.

“That you love me,” he said.

Her eyes snapped open wide and she straightened up. Had she really said that? She hadn’t _meant_ to. She had _meant_ to say she cared for him, cared for him greatly, but...oh, who was she kidding? She did love him, quite a bit. “Yes, Sherlock, I did,” she said.

“I’m glad,” he replied. “I had worried that if I told you I loved you as well you would think it too soon. That’s why I didn’t say the words myself.”

She felt a wide smile form on her face despite the seriousness of the situation. “So you feel the same way?” she asked.

“I do.”

“I see,” she said. “Then perhaps we should celebrate this momentous occasion. I mean, there are things to worry about, yes, but...it’s rather bothersome that we aren’t in the same room telling this to each other face to face.”

“Then why don’t I invite you for lunch at my flat? We can have some privacy there and it is nearly between our two universities. I’ll order takeaway and pick it up on the way.”

“I like that idea,” she said. “Then tonight you can stay at my flat and we’ll see what happens.”

“I like the sound of that plan,” he said. “We’ll put off talking about today’s events until supper, then.”

Her gaze darted to the letter and she bit back a sigh. “All right. Noon for lunch, then?”

“Noon it is.” There was a pause. “I love you, Molly. And I will make sure everything is okay.”

“I love you too, Sherlock. And I know you will try your hardest.”

“More than my hardest.”

“I’m sure.”

“Good-bye for now.”

“Good-bye.” She hung up her mobile and set it on her desk before picking up the note again. She wanted to rip it to shreds, toss it in the rubbish bin and never set eyes on it again but she knew Sherlock would have other plans for it, so she put it back in the envelope and then put it in her handbag before trying to regain her composure. She had classes to get through before and after her lunch, and this was just one day of many to get through before the term ended. One foot in front of the other, that would have to be her motto from here on out.


	18. Chapter 18

Unfortunately for Sherlock plans for lunch had to get scrapped due to a call from Scotland Yard for her expertise. She’d been afraid having her name attached to the scandal with Carmichael would dampen their enthusiasm for using her as a consult, but it was actually quite the opposite. DI Hopkins rather danced around the issue at first but in the end she told Molly Scotland Yard was doing some dealing with Barts to see, if worst came to worst, if they could find room on their staff for Molly so she’d stay in London and still be able to teach, just in a different way. She was so surprised she nearly hugged the woman, even though Hopkins said to keep it to herself since it was all hush hush right now. The fact that the Yard liked her so much meant the world to her, though.

She ended up having her TA teach the rest of her classes for the day since it was a complicated consult, and she made it a point to note if she was able to bring an assistant with her to Barts if she made the move to broach the idea that Rosalee come with her. She was graduating at the end of the year and Molly would make sure a job was waiting for her, if she wanted it. It wasn’t teaching, but Rosalee was talented and Barts _was_ a teaching hospital. It might be a good place for her.

She finished just slightly earlier than she would have finished her classes. She had brought all the notes that were on her door that morning and the new round that had cropped up during her morning classes. Thankfully there had been no more from M, but she wasn’t looking forward to wading through any more of them, to be quite honest. But she wasn’t really in the mood to drop back by the university, either, so she stopped off at the market to pick up ingredients for coq au vin. It wouldn’t hurt to show off a little, not after this morning’s declaration.

She loved him, and she’d told him as much, and he loved her in return. She hadn’t quite gotten down from the elation of that, even with the pressing matter of the note and the implications of that. She’d always thought she would die an old maid, forever the third wheel in her group of mates, lost in her world of fantasy books and bad telly, and yet here she was, embroiled in a real life drama with a man who loved her. She might not be fond of the drama part, but she was quite fond of the man she loved, and she had faith in his ability to get them out of this situation more or less intact. Perhaps it was a bit naive, but she wasn’t exactly going to have him do _all_ the work, either. She was going to do her part as well.

She got home and began to prepare the meal, and was only surprised to hear the door open and smell the unmistakable smell of Chinese takeaway moments later. “Oh! I thought I’d cook,” she said from the kitchen.

“And here I thought I would save you some trouble,” he said with a small smile before setting the plastic sack on the counter. “Would white rice be any good to the menu?”

“Not ideal, but we can make do,” she said, turning to give him a quick kiss. Oh, she would have loved for it to be lengthier, but she needed to keep her eyes on the chicken. “It never tastes good the next day anyway.”

“You do not seen too troubled,” he said, moving to the sack and beginning to pull out cartons.

“Depending on what Moriarty tries to pull, if my career at the university is finished, I could possibly have another position,” she said, turning back to the chicken. “Scotland Yard wants to install me as their main specialist registrar at Barts instead of their consultant, if I’m willing and they can kick Carpenter’s arse out.”

“Oh?” Sherlock asked. “Is that something you want to do?”

“I like teaching, I do, but there’s something...thrilling...about the work I do for the Yard,” she said. “And there’s a part of me that feels closer to my dad when I do it. And then there’s the fact I’m not very well liked on campus at the moment.” She turned and gestured with her spatula to her handbag, which was sitting on her counter. “Between what I arrived to this morning and what I got during my first class, I’m rather despised for getting Carmichael to resign, even though he brought it on himself. If I stay, I may well be the campus pariah.”

Sherlock picked out a note and opened it, shaking his head as he read it. He tossed it back on the counter, and then pulled out another note and stilled. Molly glanced over and saw it was Moriarty’s. “And then there’s Moriarty,” Sherlock said quietly.

“Yes. He’ll be a ghost on that campus, there every time I turn around, I bet,” she said, turning back to the chicken again. “I don’t think your disgracing him trick will work twice. I can’t prove that letter is from him, I can’t prove he hired Irene to befriend me to learn secrets, I can’t prove he told Carmichael about us...” There was silence from Sherlock for a few moments until she felt his arms slide around her waist from behind and his chin rest on her head. “I know he wins if I leave, but maybe it’s better.”

“Perhaps,” Sherlock murmured. “But we won’t end, will we?”

She was surprised for just a moment, but then she turned off the heat under the skillet and turned in his arms, looking up at him. “Like hell I’m going to let him win _that_ way,” she said. “I love you and I am not letting you go without the fight to end all fights, do you understand?”

He looked at her for a moment, and she could swear she saw something in his eyes that hadn’t been there before, and within seconds he bent his head down and kissed her as he pulled her against her, the kind of kiss designed to make a woman weak in the knees. She had to hold onto his shoulder to keep herself upright, and she found herself digging her fingers in as she frantically kissed him back. No, damn it all, she was not going to give this man up just because Moriarty wanted his twisted revenge. As she started to raise herself up just moments before Sherlock picked her up and she found herself wrapping her legs around his waist and deepening the kiss, she realized tonight marked a change in their relationship. After tonight, it was all going to be different. It was all going to mean more. 

And she found she couldn’t wait.


	19. Chapter 19

Molly didn’t usually dress up for her Sunday brunch with Mary and Sally, at least in the sense that she put an extreme amount of care into her appearance, but the Sunday after the change in her relationship with Sherlock she decided it might be nice. It had rather helped that she had an audience watching her get ready, giving her commentary as she picked out her dress and styled her hair and did her make-up and, on occasion, trying _very_ hard to entice her back into bed. Sherlock almost succeeded, too, and she ended up hurrying into The Delaunay twenty-five minutes later than usual, seeing Mary and Sally were already at their usual table. “I am so sorry,” Molly said, adjusting the dress she was wearing, a white dress with a sheer paneling covering the shoulders all the way down to her knees that was dotted with red polka dots and secured around the waist with a wide red buckled belt. “I was a bit preoccupied.”

Mary and Sally exchanged knowing glances. “Could that be why you and Sherlock missed the group date this week?” Sally asked with a smirk.

“And why John said his flat has been Sherlock-free all week?” Mary asked, giving Molly a smug smile. “Because you and Sherlock have been preoccupied shagging each others brains out in your flat?”

Molly’s first instinct was to be embarrassed, but she suppressed it and reached over for the glass of water that the waiter filled for her. “Perhaps,” she said evasively.

“Good on you!” Sally said, her smirk turning into a full blown smile. “About bloody time.”

“Of course, what she really means is, if he’s practically moved into your flat, the shagging has to be excellent, right?” Mary asked.

Molly let a giggle escape, despite trying to appear quite cool and posh, and then she took a sip of her water. “For someone who had never actually shagged anyone before, it was a bit of a rough start, but as they say, practice makes perfect. And...we’ve had quite a bit of practice this week.”

Sally shook her head and leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms. “I honestly never would have expected that of him. That he was a...you know.”

“Well, I had thought perhaps not, because I knew he _had_ dated, just not much, and you don’t need to necessarily date to shag,” Molly said. Then she dropped the cool act and gave them a genuine smile. “But it really didn’t matter. He’s kind and considerate and...I don’t know. There’s something about the fact he wants to make sure I’m actually _enjoying_ myself that makes me want to make sure the same holds true for him. And...we laugh a lot. I mean, there are obviously heated moments, but there’s fun there, too.”

“You do?” Sally asked.

Molly nodded. “Well, I mean, he _was_ a virgin. It’s not like he became a sex god in seven days. But we find humour in it, and that makes it even better. It’s better with him than it’s been with other blokes.”

“I do know how that feels,” Mary said, nodding. “It’s rather that way with John and I. There are obviously times when it’s a very good idea not to laugh, but joking around, having a good laugh, enjoying yourself...it makes a difference.” Mary looked over to Sally with a sly look. “Maybe certain other people will be lucky enough to learn that.”

“Oh?” Molly asked, leaning forward. “Do tell.”

Sally tilted her head back and forth slightly. “When you and Sherlock didn’t show up this week, Mary and John asked if it was okay if they went off and did their own thing, and we said fine, and then Greg asked me if I wanted to get a bite and maybe go on a date. Like, just the two of us. So we went and had dinner and then caught a jazz performance at a club he had heard about from one of the professors in his department and..” she ducked her head. “He kissed me goodnight when he dropped me off at my flat.”

“Oh, congratulations!” Molly said. “You know, I think this calls for a bottle of something. We should make this a champagne brunch.”

“We should,” Mary agreed, calling for the waiter. When he arrived she ordered some champagne for the table and then looked at the menu. “And I think we should all break the mold and have different things. I might have a würstchen and that buckwheat pancake with the vegetables and the fried duck’s egg.”

Sally nodded approvingly. “Hmm. Then maybe I’ll have the daily tagesteller?”

Molly laughed. “Then I think I’ll have the Viennese Breakfast, but could I have an almond croissant instead of a pretzel? And some Jersey Rock oysters as well? The waiter nodded and then moved away.

“Things seem to be looking up for all of us,” Sally said.

“Well, for the most part,” Molly said, her good mood dimming. “I mean, I’m still a bit of a pariah over what happened with Carmichael, and then there’s this shite Moriarty is trying to pull because of my relationship with Sherlock.” Getting blank looks from her friends she shook her head. “He’s threatening blackmail of some sort. Said he knows what is truth and what is lies from what I told Irene, just because I wouldn’t break up with Sherlock.”

“The bastard,” Mary said, scowling slightly.

“I know,” Molly replied.

“You know, Phillip’s been rather chummy with him lately,” Sally said thoughtfully. “And I know you two are friendly. Maybe I should have a word with him?”

Molly thought about it for a moment and then shook her head. “It’s probably best not to tip our hand. I mean, we can ask Sherlock, but I’m sure if Moriarty has said anything about Sherlock to Phillip, he’s probably poisoned his mind already. I get the feeling Moriarty can be quite persuasive when he wants to be.” Molly pursed her lips slightly and then shook her head. “But you know what? I refuse to let that bastard ruin my happiness. We’re celebrating today.” She lifted up her water glass. “To happy times.”

“To happy times,” Mary and Sally said, tapping their glasses against hers. Molly gave them both a smile before she sipped her water. She didn’t _want_ to think about what Sally had just told her, and for the time being she could forget about it, but she knew she would have to tell Sherlock and they’d have to deal with it eventually, and it could not mean anything good for either of them.


	20. Chapter 20

She had been surprised to see the familiar face of DI Hopkins waiting for her outside of her office almost two weeks after she got the news from her that Scotland Yard was considering her to replace Carpenter as their resident specialist registrar if everything at the university fell through. She had a troubled look on her face, and that made Molly worried. “Stella?” she called out, getting the woman’s attention.

Stella gestured to the note board on her door, which Molly regretted to note was still covered with about equal measure notes of disdain and notes of support. “Not everyone is happy about Carmichael leaving, are they?”

“No,” Molly said with a sigh. “The women he’s harassed are, and professors and adjuncts who he’s bullied, but those who have grants that need funding or other matters that were in negotiations, not so much.” She began plucking the notes off the board and setting them on top of her papers before biting her lip. “I suppose you’re here to tell me the job at Barts has gone up in smoke?”

“Oh no. If anything, they might try and entice you earlier than your end of term. Carpenter is getting belligerent now. He swung at that consultant Krause brings when the consultant told him to stop saying unkind things about you.”

“Oh, Sherlock,” Molly said, shaking her head.

“You know him?” Stella asked.

“He’s my boyfriend,” Molly said as she got the last note off. “That’s what started this whole debacle in the first place.” She shifted her hold on things and then opened the door. “He teaches at our rival university, but it’s more complicated than that.”

“Molly, you know you can talk to me,” Stella said.

“This is a personal matter between Sherlock and someone else,” she said. “I’m just collateral damage, I suppose.”

“You and your father, it seems,” Stella said as Molly made her way to her desk.

Molly dropped her papers on her desk with a dull thud. “What has my father got to do with this?”

“There’s been word he wasn’t…‘above the board,’ so to speak,” Stella said quietly. “Most of the Yard who worked with him think it’s utter shite, including the top brass, but if the rumours keep spreading, they may have to take an actual look into it.”

“How did these rumours _start_?” Molly asked, aghast.

“I don’t know. But Krause and a few others are looking into it. They were fond of your father and they aren’t taking too kindly to this.” She came closer to Molly’s desk. “Molly, if you’re in the middle of something and you need help, please, let me help you. I know I’m not one of your best mates, but I am a friend. I can help off the record as much as possible.”

Molly was quiet, but then she nodded. “Let me think about it, Stella, alright?”

“Fair enough,” Stella said. “For now, I’ll help Krause and the others. If someone is trying to smear the Hooper name, we’ll put a stop to it.”

“Thank you,” Molly said, giving her a weak smile. Stella gave her a more reassuring one back and then turned and left the office as Molly sank into her seat. It wasn’t bad enough Moriarty was coming after _her_ professionally. Now he had to try and smear her departed father’s name? She knew her dad had been on the up and up. That was the way he was. But even the whiff of doubt on an official level could rain all sorts of trouble down on so many people.

She picked up her mobile. Classes were over for the day for Sherlock, she was fairly sure, so she shouldn’t interrupt much other than perhaps a student getting clarifications on the day’s lecture. She pulled up his number and hit send and then waited two rings for him to answer. “Molly?” he asked.

“The bastard is trying to smear my father’s name,” she said, not even realizing she’d been on the verge of tears until she felt one hit the heel of her hand. "Stella came and told me there’s rumours at the Yard that my father might have been corrupt. It’s bull. I know it and they know it but Moriarty...the bastard...”

“If he wasn’t corrupt then the truth will come out,” Sherlock said in a soothing voice.

But all Molly could focus on was the first word of the sentence. “What the bloody hell do you mean, ‘if,’ Sherlock?” she said, anger humming along her voice. “My father wasn’t crooked. No way in hell would he be dirty. No. And if you think that--”

“I don’t,” Sherlock said firmly. “But Moriarty has ways of making things appear as they aren’t.”

“Bloody fucking hell,” Molly said, feeling as if she’d been punched in the gut. “So even though we know he isn’t, it could all look as if he was? Sherlock, criminals will be set free! People who should never be allowed on the streets again, they’ll be let out over...over a bloody fucking _vendetta_!”

“I won’t allow it,” he said. “I will not allow your father’s name to be tarnished and I won’t allow any criminals to be set free.”

Molly shook her head. “I’ve had enough of this. I’m going to walk to the psychology department and see if he’s there and give him a piece of my mind. Enough is enough.”

“No!” Sherlock said, his voice suddenly sounding panicked. “Don’t. That’s not the smart way to deal with him.”

“Then maybe I’ll just clue Scotland Yard into this. He’s sent me threats, Sherlock. I can have him arrested.”

“And he’ll be out in a day,” Sherlock said.

“Then what am I supposed to _do_?!?” she said, getting exasperated. “I can’t confront him, I can’t get the law involved. Am I supposed to leave it all up to you? I’ve done that so far and now the career I’ve built so far is in jeopardy and the legacy my father left is too. What great plans do you have Sherlock? Tell me. Please.”

“I don’t know,” he said quietly.

“Well, don’t bother to come around until you do,” she said, hanging up the phone. She was angry and sad and scared, all at once, and as she tossed her mobile on her desk, knowing she’d probably just thrown away the one relationship that had ever mattered to her, she did the only thing that seemed prudent and pulled her knees up to her chest, curling up on her chair, and started to cry.


	21. Chapter 21

The next few days after her fight with Sherlock made her absolutely miserable. She hadn’t realized how much of an integral part of her life he had become until he simply wasn’t there. Part of her wanted to reach out to him, to try and work this out, but another part of her thought maybe this was best. Maybe ending things was best for everyone in this twisted little game of revenge. It couldn’t undo the damage that had already been done or the damage that had been started, but maybe it could keep things from getting _worse_.

And the only people who would really be hurt were her and Sherlock.

For the first time in she didn’t know how long she skipped brunch with Mary and Sally, and it wasn’t long after they usually would meet that the two women were at her flat, ice cream and good wine in tow, and they sat around watching chick flicks and eating and drinking and just talking about everything, the whole entire sordid situation. Mary said John was avoiding his flat, because Sherlock had taken to playing the violin at odd hours, sad and mournful tunes, and Molly had almost caved and called him then but all had agreed maybe this was best. She’d rather hoped they wouldn’t, but three minds were probably better than one.

She had an awful headache the next morning when she went to class. She’d almost sent out an email to her students canceling the classes for the day but thought better of it. Her reputation was on the line and if word got out she’d broken up with her boyfriend and either Sally or Mary showed up looking the slightest bit under the weather or called in themselves, rumours would start flying. Next thing she knew she’d be called a drunkard and told she was unfit for molding the bright young minds of tomorrow. So classes it was, even if she’d rather hide under her covers and spend the day cursing at her past self for drinking too much wine and eating too little real food.

She approached her door and saw all the notes that had been on there pulled off and carelessly strewn on the floor, leaving one gleaming white envelope with a familiar scrawl on it front and center. The feeling of sickness in her stomach increased as she pulled it off the board and opened it. _Looks like I won. Pity you’ve lost so much._ Bastard. Did this mean even though she and Sherlock were over by all counts he would still keep up his revenge against _her_? She crumpled the note in her hand and then bent down to retrieve the rest of the notes from the board.

She opened her office door and was almost to her desk when her mobile began to ring. She quickly dropped everything on the desk and went to answer it. The number was one she didn’t recognize, which gave her a moment’s trepidation before she realized it could be Moriarty, calling to gloat. Fine. She’d give him a piece of her mind. She answered the call and began speaking before a word was spoken to her. “Listen, you miserable piece of shite. I’ve had enough of these games.”

“I imagine Sherlock has too.”

She blinked. That didn’t sound like Moriarty. There definitely wasn’t an Irish accent. And the man speaking didn’t sound like he was gloating, either. “I, umm...” she began, and then reached up to scratch her head slightly. “I’m sorry. I thought you might be someone else.”

“James Moriarty, bastard extraordinaire, perhaps?”

Now she was even more confused. “Who is this?” she asked, moving to her chair and sinking into it.

“As you aren’t one for games, I won’t do the ‘a friend of a friend’ route, though I am. My name is Victor Trevor.”

Realization dawned on her at the name. This was the man who had gotten caught up in Moriarty’s drug scheme in uni, the one who had paid the price that Sherlock had enacted revenge over. The revenge Moriarty was making Sherlock and her pay for _now_. This was a call she hadn’t expected. “I wasn’t expecting to hear from you. I mean, Sherlock never introduced us.”

“Well, if he’d been given time, I’m sure he would have.” She felt slightly guilty at those words, until Victor spoke again. “Moriarty is very good at pushing buttons, though, and it was only so long until he pushed the one that caused you to really want to push back.”

“My father,” she said quietly.

“Yes.”

“Did Sherlock tell you?” she asked.

“No. Sherlock and I still talk, but not as often. He’s had his hands full with his university job and his consulting detective hobby. I have other friends, though, and they’ve mentioned your father. He was a good man.”

She sat up straighter. “You knew my father?” she asked, surprised.

“He investigated my beating,” Victor said. “You didn’t know we all went to uni in London?”

“No, I didn’t,” she said.

“University College London alumni, all of us,” he said. “Though I’m a few years later. It took some time for me to be able to attend university again after what happened. When Sherlock told me who his girlfriend was, I remembered your father mentioning your name and decided to keep my ears open. I had a feeling something like this would happen sooner or later.”

“If I could kill the bastard I would,” Molly said with a sigh.

“I would have helped long ago,” Victor said. “Now I just want to help you get out of this mess and still have some semblance of a future with Sherlock.”

“I don’t think that’s possible,” she replied.

“You’d be surprised.” There was a pause. “Can you come to Oxford today? I know it’s a bit of travel, and if you need to stay overnight, I have room.”

She thought about it. Having to cancel a day or two of classes would look bad. Very bad indeed. But this was an opportunity she didn’t want to pass up. “Let me go home and pack an overnight bag, just in case, and then I’ll get on the first train in that direction.”

“Good. You can call me at this number and I’ll have my husband pick you up.” There was another pause. “I think we’ll be able to come up with something to help.”

“I hope so,” she said, and she very much meant that.


	22. Chapter 22

She hadn’t gone to Oxford often in the recent past, but she knew her way around the train station well enough. It was strange to be here for a reason that wasn’t academic and even stranger knowing she was going to meet Victor Trevor face to face. She had so many questions, wondered so many things. And now she was going to find out answers.

Victor had sent her a photo of his husband, Aaron. She spotted him almost immediately, as he was one of the tallest people at the station, standing at almost two meters. He had a shaved head and dark brown skin, just as he had in the picture, though he was wearing a grey and red turtleneck sweater and black slacks instead. She had sent a picture as well and he smiled when he spotted her. “Dr. Hooper?” he asked.

“Molly, please,” she said with a smile of her own. He reached out and extended his hand and she shook it before he pulled away and offered to take her bag. Once he had a hold of it, they turned and began walking. “How long have you known Victor?” she asked.

“Since university,” Aaron said. “I was a few years behind him and Sherlock and that bastard, and when Victor was paralyzed I made an offer to help take care of him in exchange for room and board at his new flat. Sherlock introduced us and one thing led to another, and by the time Vic went back to university we had entered a civil partnership.”

She nodded. “So you know the whole story?”

“I watched it all play out,” he said quietly. “But it’s better to hear the story from Vic. It’s his story to tell.”

They lapsed into silence for a moment before Aaron began asking her questions. It seemed as though he knew a lot about her on some levels, but the questions he asked and the stories he told her in response to her own seemed to be geared at getting to know her better. She was sure if she didn’t tell Victor these same things his husband would, but it was alright. By the time they arrived at the home Victor and Aaron shared, she knew now why Sherlock had thought so highly of Victor and she, herself, was thinking quite highly of Aaron.

Still, she was a bit nervous when they got into the home. It seemed to have been custom designed for someone who was in a wheelchair on a permanent basis, with the knobs lower and no steps to be seen. She remembered the flat had been Victor’s idea and mainly Victor had paid for it and wondered if this home was something he had modified once he was moved in completely or had designed from the ground up.

Aaron showed her to a room that was filled with plants and sunlight and books, a place she sorely felt that she wanted to steal the design for should she ever get a home of her own. Victor was at a desk, reading something on a laptop situated on it, and then he looked up and gave her a soft smile. “You approve?” he asked.

“This is a lovely room,” she said, looking around as she made her way to the chairs nearby the desk. “This is a room practically out of my dreams.”

Victor chuckled. “I have to have some place to go to remind me of a hothouse,” he said. “I used to have botanical interests in my spare time. Now, as a professor, there isn’t much time for it.”

He moved away from the desk and she could hear his chair before she saw it. She tried not to stare but she was afraid she couldn’t help it. But Victor didn’t seem to mind, going to the table near the window for tea. “You get used to it. I know it’s rather a shock, even though you knew.”

“I think what’s more of a shock is how easily you maneuver it,” she admitted.

“I’ve had time, and I’m lucky that I have money to get the best mobility aids and access to some of the best therapies and therapists to help,” he said. He gestured to the tea set on the table. “Would you like some?”

“Yes, please,” she said.

“Feel free to look around while I make your cup. How do you take it?” he asked.

“Sugar and milk,” she said, getting up. She started to look around the room at the lovely varieties of plants he had there. She stopped at a purple flower that she had never seen before. “What’s this?”

“A rare member of the orchid family that I managed to grow from seeds that most people thought would produce no plants,” Victor said. He finished making her tea and then took the cup over to her. She took it from him and took a sip. “I do still play around a bit with plants, just not as often.”

“It’s lovely,” she said.

“You can take it with you if you’d like,” he said. “I have three.”

Her eyes widened as she looked at him. “I couldn’t!”

He laughed. “Sherlock’s tried getting it for a year now. This will teach him not to be an arse about the situation. And then if you should move in together, he’ll finally get his wish.”

Molly smiled sadly, shaking her head. “I don’t know if we’ll be able to get past this. He...”

“Has the emotional maturity sometimes of a toddler,” Victor said, and Molly’s smile warmed before she took a sip of the tea. “But he is loyal. Fiercely loyal. And if he cares, you won’t have a better person on your side.”

She nodded. “He does care,” she replied.

“It was obvious the first time he talked about you,” Victor said with a kind smile. “He just sees caring about _you_ in a different way than he cares about others, and that leads him to make...stupid decisions.”

Molly looked down at him. “What happened?”

Victor nodded, his brown curls bouncing slightly. “He told you how I ended up in the chair?”

“Jim had been doing a drug trade at school and you were caught up in it by virtue of being in the flat when someone wanted to leave him a message,” she said.

“That’s pretty much the entire story, at least about how I ended up in the chair,” Victor said. “Sherlock was the first one called because I didn’t trust Moriarty or Moran. He felt horrible, that this was all somehow his fault, and he set out to prove Moriarty and Moran had been behind so much more than just the drugs. He wanted to expose them completely. It became an obsession.”

“And I take it it didn’t end well?” Molly asked quietly.

“Not for Moran. He took the fall for Moriarty and is currently in prison. But Moriarty’s reputation was damaged by association. And Sherlock called in favours from his brother so that people who _really_ look into his background for more than a cursory glance find evidence of the sketchy things he was associated with in uni. It’s cost him quite a bit over the years.”

“He still managed to get hired at _my_ university,” Molly said, a tinge of bitterness in her voice.

“Oh, he’s done a lot to scrub out the damage that Sherlock did to his reputation. It’s cost him a lot of time and a lot of money, most of which I’m sure he didn’t come by legally. It was bound to happen that an imbecile like Carmichael would give him a position with prestige.” He looked over at the flower. “I just imagine he never dreamed one of his colleagues would be Sherlock’s weak spot.”

“I’m not that,” Molly said, shaking her head. 

“No, you are,” Victor said. “I’ve never seen him try so hard to keep someone he cared for safe, even to the point of pushing them away. You’re more important to him than you realize.” Victor then backed his chair up and went back to the desk. “Fortunately, while Moriarty has been scrubbing away at the stain on his reputation, I’ve been keeping tabs on him and those around his web. And I think I have a way for you to solve your problems, especially know that Carmichael’s resigned.”

“Oh?” she asked.

He nodded and motioned for her to come over to the laptop. “Let me show you what I’ve been doing. Sherlock did his best, but I was going to make sure if Moriarty ever got retaliation, this time _I_ would be able to take care of _Sherlock_.”

Molly set her tea on the saucer and then went over to the desk. For the first time in days, she felt a bit of hope inside her that maybe, _maybe_ , this would have a good resolution after all.


	23. Chapter 23

Molly stayed the night in Oxford, enjoying both dinner and breakfast with Victor and Aaron before catching an early train back to London. She realized that even though something horrific had happened to Victor, and he still had strong feelings about it, he had a good life. She had not had such an enjoyable evening in a while and ended up leaving with the invitation to come back often and bring Sherlock with her once they reconciled. Victor and Aaron both seemed so sure that they would, and she almost had hope they would be right.

She had arranged for her assistant to administer the tests her classes that day had to take while she headed to the University of London as soon as she arrived, as it was just about time for Sherlock’s office hours to start. Perhaps if she was lucky she could get some time with him to go over what she and Victor had talked about, to show him the information Victor had gathered…

To apologize for going so long without trying to work things out.

She wasn’t sure what she would find as she made her way to his office, but when she knocked on the door and was told to come in, the sight of Sherlock sitting at his desk with a black eye and bandaged hand and stitches on his face was _not_ what she had expected. “What happened?” she asked, forgetting everything she’d planned on the way there and going to his side, reaching forward to touch his face gently under the black eye.

“I may have had a confrontation yesterday,” Sherlock said, wincing slightly.

“Did Moriarty come looking for you?” she asked.

Sherlock got a rather embarrassed look on his face. “I...went looking for him,” he said quietly. “I wanted to tell him to direct his revenge at me and only me and it got...physical.”

Molly shook her head, cupping his cheek. “Oh, Sherlock.”

“You don’t deserve to be dragged into my mess. You have done nothing wrong and your father has done nothing wrong and neither of your reputations should be wrapped up in all of this.” He looked up at her. “And I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you, do what you wanted me to do.”

Molly shook her head. “We both dealt with this in a way that we shouldn’t have. I should have told you how I felt instead of yelling and giving you the cold treatment.” She hesitated for a moment and then leaned in and kissed him softly. “I’m sorry for that.”

He reached for her and pulled her onto his lap, and she snuggled into him as best she could. “I’ve been miserable the last few days,” he said.

“I have too,” she replied. “Though not last night.”

“Oh?” he asked. “I don’t have competition, do I?”

“No,” she said with a small smile. “Victor Trevor had me at his home as his guest. And we talked about how to best deal with Moriarty.”

Sherlock pulled back to look at her. “He approves?”

“Of us? Yes. Of the situation? No. He decided after you told him about me that someone needed to keep you safe. Fortunately, he is going to do just that.” She moved away and reached into her handbag for a flash drive. “I’m going to give this to Stella. It might take a little time, but apparently, the things that James got into in uni? He never stopped. And this is evidence.”

Sherlock’s eyes widened. “I had never been able to get any evidence that he was still into illegal activities. Neither had my brother.”

“Victor has friends similar to Mary’s friends,” Molly said with a smile. “And they decided it was worth keeping track of the things James is up to. And now it’s time to include the police.”

Sherlock reached for her again and she dropped onto his lap once more. “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked quietly.

Molly nodded. “He doesn’t deserve a cushy job as a professor where he can harass me for however long I keep my position. He deserves to be in prison with Moran, rotting until hell freezes over.”

“Then I’ll go with you when you give this to your friend,” Sherlock said.

“How about I invite Stella over for dinner tonight, and you come join us?” she asked.

Sherlock let his fingers play on her thigh. “So I’m welcome at your home again?”

She nodded. “Not just in my home, but...in my bed, too,” she said. “It’s been hell sleeping the last few days.”

“I’m glad,” he said, moving his hand to bring her face closer to his. Just as they were about to kiss, there was a knock at the door. Molly giggled as Sherlock glared. “To be continued?”

She nodded, sliding off his lap. “After dinner, unless you come by earlier.”

“I’ll make sure I’m there as soon as classes are over for the day,” he said.

“Then I’ll suggest Stella come over for a late dinner,” she said, leaning in and giving him a quick kiss as another knock sounded on the door. She pulled away more quickly than she was sure either of them wanted and slipped the flash drive into her handbag, giving him a wave and opening the door to see one of his students there. Things were definitely looking up, and for that, she was grateful.


	24. Chapter 24

The dinner that evening went well. Stella told them that there was enough information on the drive to start a rather serious and intensive investigation, but it would take time. She said whatever was needed to make sure the two of them were safe would be done to the best of her ability, and Sherlock assured her whatever Scotland Yard couldn’t do his brother would. Molly felt a weight off her shoulders by the time her friend left, and sleep came easier that evening.

Not that it didn’t hurt to have reconciled with Sherlock; it was quite some time before they actually went to sleep, engaging in the “make-up shags” that were supposedly the only positive side of a fight with your significant other. That evening as she fell asleep being held by him, she realized she had come so close to tossing this all away, and so had he, both of them because of stupidity. They had promised to communicate more about anything that could come up, and she knew she was going to hold him to it.

She had rather hoped that with the evidence being handed over she might be spared from seeing the bastard on campus, but he was still there on occasion, getting ready for his new position. She held her tongue about what she and Sherlock had done to Sally, Mary and Greg, not because she didn’t trust them but because she didn’t want them getting hurt. If James knew he was under investigation for evidence she had given to Scotland Yard, she feared for the safety of her friends.

It made getting through the rest of term that much harder, but she did her best. Knowing at some point he would be gone, hopefully behind bars, made it easier, but there were still moments she would approach her office door and expect to see the notes on the floor and a white envelope front and center. Still, those fears remained unfounded and she was quite surprised to find final exams taking place without a peep from him.

She had hoped he had forgotten about his revenge but unfortunately, he hadn’t, and he struck when she wasn’t expecting it.

She’d had a student who was a mother who had had sick children the day of her final exam, and Molly had arranged for her to come in for a special exam the evening of the last day of term when she was finally able to get a sitter. She had made sure she let Sherlock know what was going on and that she would head to Baker Street for dinner with him and John and Mary as soon as the student finished. It took over an hour, but finally, her student was finished and she gave Molly grateful thanks and left the office.

Molly had put the exam in her briefcase and was heading towards the door when it burst in and a masked man barged into the office. Molly picked up the first thing off her desk that she could use as a weapon, a letter opener, and prepared to defend herself. She was counting on the training her father had given her when she was young along with the various things Stella and Mary and Sally had all shown her, but the intruder overpowered her, though not before she jabbed him in the side and felt the letter opener pierce their skin. But the intruder hit her other the head and she was out cold.

When she came to her head was ringing and she felt nauseous. She knew she had a concussion then, and possibly more damage, but the first thing she had to deal with was panic. She was in a dark, windowless room, with only the barest of light coming in from under the door. She had no idea how big the room was but she felt the walls closing in on her, a side effect of claustrophobia she’d developed after being locked in a cellar when she was a young girl by bullies.

She shut her eyes and tried to calm herself, even out her breathing. When she reached around to hold herself tight she shifted and felt her mobile in her trouser pocket. A flare of hope went up inside her as she fished it out and turned it on. It wasn’t broken or battered during the scuffle, and she had two bars and half her battery left. 

Her first instinct was to call Sherlock, but she wasn’t sure if anyone was listening and not only did her mobile provide a contact to the outside world it also provided light. She decided to text him instead, turning her volume down so the phone was on vibrate before she sent the text. _I got kidnapped and I’m somewhere dark and I have a concussion,_ she keyed in before sending the text, hoping he answered quickly. The brightness of the screen was making her nausea worse but she needed it, too.

The text was returned almost immediately. _Do you know where you are?_ Sherlock texted back.

 _No_ , she sent in reply.

There was a longer pause this time, but the next reply came more quickly than she’d imagined. _Keep your phone on as long as you can. We’ll find you._

 _My battery is half dead,_ she sent back.

_Then let’s cease texting. Turn your phone on vibrate and keep the screen dark._

_I need the light so I don’t panic._

There was another pause and then an answer. _Then I’ll stay with you while you’re being tracked. We’ll get you, I promise. Stay calm._

She nodded at the screen though Sherlock couldn’t see and then huddled closer to the screen. Texts were exchanged sparsely, and she watched as he battery dipped lower. When it hit 15% the screen dimmed, and she made the decision to turn the battery saver off so she had the bright screen. Her battery was almost dead when the door swung open. She tensed and swayed slightly at the sudden brightness behind the figure there, quickly lowering her phone, but she calmed when she heard the voice associated with the figure. “Molly,” she heard Sherlock say before he made his way into the room.

When he got to her Molly wrapped her arms around his neck and he lifted her up easily, carrying her out of the room. “What...do you know who…?” she asked.

“Moriarty,” he said in disgust. “He should be thankful we found you when we did.”

“Why?” she asked, snuggling into him.

“You almost mortally wounded him,” she said. “He was bleeding out near the entrance to this building as if he was trying to get himself to the vehicle you were brought in. That explains why he was sloppy and left your mobile on you.”

She nodded, keeping close. “I just want to go home,” he said.

“You need medical attention. We’ll have you checked out, and then you can talk to the police in the morning. But I’ll take care of you.” He smoothed her hair back. “I promise.”

“I’m holding you to that,” she said, deciding to let him do what he felt needed to be done. She was sure that, eventually, she would be fine, and this incident would make everything going on against James happen much faster, but right now she just wanted to be held and assured it would all be okay by the man she loved, the man who had come to find her. She wanted to stay in his arms forever and…

Well, maybe now she’d have the chance.


	25. Chapter 25

**Epilogue**

The first day of freedom, and she woke up in bed alone.

Well, it was a _different_ sort of freedom, but actual freedom in many ways. 

The first way it was a day of freedom was she was no longer employed by King’s College. She had parted on good terms with the institution, having been offered the chance to take over Dr. Carpenter’s position at St Barts when the spring term was over. She was taking a two-week break before starting, as a much-deserved vacation, and as of yesterday her final grades had been turned in and the party her former colleagues who were still fond of her had happened.

Of course, it had been a two-fold celebration, and that led to the second point of her newfound freedom. James had been convicted of her kidnapping as well as assault for how he took her, and more charges were pouring in as he began his fifteen-year sentence for that. Her friends at the Yard said they’d gotten enough evidence to add onto what Victor had had that James would be in prison for most of his natural life. She and Sherlock would never have to worry about him again.

And then, there was the fact she had moved into Baker Street. Her relationship had not been the only one that had become serious, and Mary and John had eloped to Hawaii to get married when Mary found out she was pregnant. There had been discussions and John had agreed to move in with Mary, and that left Sherlock with a flat and no roommate. While she had loved her little flat, there had been advantages to moving in with him, and so, as of last night, she was officially installed in her new home.

And so today was the first day of a sort of real freedom she felt excited for. No longer was she “Mousy Molly,” the woman who had hidden at home with her books and her cat. She had a life now, a good one.

But she was also rather annoyed at waking up in an empty bed at the moment, which put a damper on things.

She sat up and stretched, and only when she went to lift the duvet and sheets off her body did she turn and see the note on the nightstand next to her. She dropped her hold of the covers and then picked up the note, recognizing Sherlock’s handwriting immediately. “ _Whatever you do, stay in bed,_ ” it read, and she smiled and settled I again, eager to see what surprise lay in store for her.

It was a short time later when the bedroom door opened and Sherlock walked in with a tray in his hands. She couldn’t see much on the tray but she did see the red rose in the vase and smiled. “Now what did I do to deserve this?” she asked.

“Moved in with me,” he replied, coming over to the bed and setting the tray on her lap. There were eggs made just the way she liked them, pancakes, bacon…

...and a ring box next to the coffee. 

Her eyes widened as she picked it up, examining the red velvet box for a moment before opening it and staring at the lovely diamond ring inside. “Oh, Sherlock,” she breathed.

“Would you share a future with me?” he asked quietly, plucking the ring out of the box and taking her left hand in his. “A real future, with marriage and perhaps children and a long long time together as man and wife?”

“Yes,” she said with a smile, tears of happiness pricking her eyes. “Of course I will.”

He slipped the ring onto her finger and then lifted her hand to kiss it. “You have no idea how happy you’ve made me,” he said.

“If you move the tray off my lap, I can show you,” she said, her smile as wide as it could possibly be. It only took a moment but soon the tray was on the nightstand and she was kissing him, the man she loved as no other, the man she’d spent the rest of her life loving.

And life was absolutely perfect in that moment as she had no more regrets about the direction it had gone. This was the happiest of ending she could have asked for, and at last, life was perfect.


End file.
